To Achieve A Dream
by SweetUnknown
Summary: When Jareth unknowingly makes Sarah a target for a bitter fae, both are forced to face certain regrets, fears, and each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Jareth had to be, without a doubt, the most sadistic bastard Rasson had ever had the misfortune to serve under.

Rasson stood in front of the desk in his study and glowered at the space where his monthly report _should_ have been but wasn't, taking deep, even breaths to keep his temper in check. He had no doubts as to who had taken the papers. The poorly stifled snickering coming from somewhere behind him gave them away. _Goblins_. How Rasson hated them!

He whirled around. The noise immediately ceased. He thought he saw one of the books in his bookcase shiver, but when he stomped over and pulled it free, he found nothing.

Jareth was responsible for this. Goblins were mischievous but stuck close to the castle unless ordered to make trouble somewhere else. The king probably thought it would be great fun to have the goblins come mess with Rasson when he knew he didn't have the time for it.

He looked over at the clock on the mantle. Ten minutes late and counting. If only he had the power to stop time—but no, that little trick was the King's alone, which he _knew_, hence why his sovereign did it. It made the joke even funnier for him. Jareth, not Rasson. Rasson thought if he became any more furious his head would literally explode from it. His would be the third immortal death this year. He would skew the average.

From under his desk, claws scratched a frantic rhythm against the wood. Someone losing their grip, perhaps? Rasson threw himself on top of the desk, grabbed the edge, and ducked his head to peer beneath. A goblin with a smushed face and beady eyes screeched at him and vanished.

It didn't have his report.

The snickering was louder this time. Rasson cursed and pulled himself up, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. He was tired of this! Tired of such disrespect. When Jareth had announced his need for aid in collecting and analyzing certain information about the Goblin Kingdom, Rasson had leapt at the offer. The position had come with a title, land, and enough money to see him settled comfortably, things he'd never dreamed of having as the fourth son of a forgotten Fae lord. Even better, he would be working directly with the King. He would have a say in some of the most important decisions made about the Underground. That first day of work, Rasson had come to the castle with every expectation of becoming his king's most honored adviser.

It had taken little more than a month to realize that had been a joke in it's own.

A lump appeared under the rug, goblin-sized. It squirmed and without thinking Rasson pounced on top of it with a victorious, "Ha!"

It exploded in a cloud of dust and glitter, whooshing out the sides of the rug and coating Rasson from head to toe. The entire room erupted in laughter. Drawers in his desk rattled, books trembled and fell off the shelves. Rasson roared and threw the rug aside. No, he had not become the King's honored adviser. Half the time when he came with his reports—reports Jareth had _told_ him to write up!—his majesty would fall asleep, or have the goblins come over with some excuse so he could leave, or… or _this_. Sabotage him before he could even get to the castle! No, Rasson was little more than a glorified secretary that Jareth only seemed interested in mocking, tricking, making a fool of. He'd had _enough_.

The lamp chain was swinging. Rasson eyed the shade. It was made out of frosted, green glass, big enough to hide a goblin under and then some. The lamp was by the door. Rasson got up and dusted himself off. Pretending to have given up, he sighed and made as if to leave the room. He reached for the door handle but, at the last second, turned and grabbed the shaft of the lamp instead. He lifted the whole thing up and swung it as hard as he could against the wall, past caring about damage or injury. Glass shattered. Papers fluttered amidst the debris and a dumpy-looking goblin yelped as it tumbled across the floor, vanishing mid-roll.

The sound of wind whispered through the room, though nothing blew, and Rasson knew the rest of the goblins had finally gone.

He scooped up the papers, now out of order, crinkled, and in some spots damp where the little cretin had drooled on them. He looked at the clock, cursed when he saw the time, and dematerialized in a rush, forgetting to properly ground himself first. He rematerialized in the King's throne room—as he'd planned—but behind his ruler's chair instead of in front of it, the proper spot for a subject visiting his sovereign.

Finding himself in such a strange spot had Rasson freezing up. He felt wrong-footed, like the time he'd accidentally gotten himself lost in the Escher room. Jareth was slouched against the throne's cushions with his back to him, his usual crystal ball balanced on the tips of his fingers. He hadn't heard or felt Rasson appear, revealing just how immersed he was in what he was watching. From this angle, Rasson could see over his King's shoulder and into the clear little object that held his ruler's fascination.

His breath caught.

The oldest and most fiercely debated rumors in the Underground all surrounded what it was their king was so obsessed with. No one possessed magic like he did. No one else could create those fragile spheres that were said to hold a person's dreams. What dreams did the mercurial, aloof, sometimes cruel Goblin King have? Now Rasson knew.

Jareth dreamed of a mortal girl.

Rasson knew she was mortal. It was obvious even at a distance. Though beautiful, she lacked the dazzling perfection of the Fae and the glow that came with immortal youth. She was also dressed like a commoner, in those heavy blue pants favored so much Aboveground these days, particularly in the west. She was reading a book.

Jareth must've heard his gasp. The crystal vanished without so much as a _pop_ as the Goblin King flung out his hand, sending Rasson flying in one great sweep of glittering wind. He smashed into the stone wall and crumpled, though somehow he managed to keep ahold on his report. He clutched it to his chest as pain pounded from the backs of his heels to the back of his head. At least there were no goblins around to witness it. He couldn't have stood to listen to any more of their manic giggling.

Jareth rose, turning gracefully to face him. He tsked Rasson with a waggle of his finger. "Appearing behind your king like that, and without announcing yourself? You know better, Rasson. Was I of a mind, I could have you charged with attempted assassination."

Rasson laid there, trying to convince his lungs to take in air. "I would never… you know I wouldn't…"

"Yes, yes, but this is why propriety must be upheld, is it not? To avoid such dangerous misunderstandings?" Jareth's lips quirked upwards into that mocking smile he wore so well. Rasson fought not to scowl. They both knew he didn't give a damn about propriety. This was just another chance for Jareth to amuse himself at his expense.

Anger bubbled up and Rasson thought of the girl in the crystal. Either the Goblin King didn't think he'd seen, or was using this lecture as a way to warn him that questions would not be tolerated. Rasson didn't need to ask questions though. There was only one reason why Jareth would be spying on a mortal girl: he wanted her.

Rasson didn't know for what. Simple lust? Maybe she had some secret power that the Goblin King planned to steal? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Jareth wanted her. Badly, if the amount of time—_years_—he spent gazing into his crystals were any indication. And wouldn't it… yes, wouldn't be only too funny if Rasson got her first?

Rasson hid his smile behind his armful of papers. The Goblin King didn't realize it, but Rasson could play jokes too—used to be quite good at them, in fact. It was time, he decided, that he show his majesty that.

And this time, the laugh would be on Jareth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"You _quit_?" The exclamation carried over the din of the crowded coffee shop. Sarah choked down the mouthful of caramel latte she'd been savoring and shushed her friend, Vera, who goggled at her from across their small table. "I thought you were under contract?"

Sarah sighed. "I was. But luckily Elizabeth's schedule opened up and she agreed to take over the part. She was the producer's first choice anyway, so he was more understanding about it than he probably would've been otherwise."

"You _think_?" Vera scowled and pointed a long, French-manicured finger at her. "You're always doing this. You get offered a role—a _great_ role too, usually—and then you bail at the last second."

"I don't always bail."

Without a missing a beat, Vera said, "_Gremlins_ Musical, opening night. You ran off the stage in the middle of the second act and refused to come back."

Even now, Sarah shuddered at the memory. "All those bad gremlins running around freaked me out."

"They were just actors in make-up! You rehearsed I don't know how many weeks beforehand with them!"

"They weren't in full costume then!"

"And the _Beauty and the Beast _play?"

"I didn't run out on that!"

"No, but every time you got to the part where Belle made a deal with the Beast to exchange her life for her father's, you would burst into tears."

"You come to too many of my shows," Sarah muttered, slouching back in her seat. She crossed her arms. "And the director liked my take on Belle. He said it was more realistic."

Vera rolled her eyes. "That's because you were really crying. I know when you're acting and when you're not, Sarah. You couldn't stop yourself from bawling, admit it."

"Fine, I admit it! Are you through throwing my mistakes back into my face yet?"

Vera immediately deflated. "That's not what I… I'm just concerned, that's all. And a little confused. This was a _movie _that you quit, Sarah. I don't know what else… If you really don't like it, why do you keep taking parts?"

"It's not that I _don't_ like it," Sarah said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Things just seem to happen that… bring up bad memories, I guess. And I chicken out—" She cringed at her choice of words.

"Bad memories." Vera shook her head. "You make it sound like you have PTSD or something. You're an upper-middle class white girl whose biggest trauma, as far as I'm aware, is that you're parents divorced. Which, yeah, sucks, but I thought you were over all that."

Sarah didn't comment. She'd met Vera her freshman year in college. They were dorm mates turned friends, and though they'd grown close these past four years, she still didn't dare tell Vera certain things, like what gremlins reminded her of, or why, when she was feeling low, she spent so much time in front of her old mirror.

Why she flinched at the sight of owls.

When it became clear Sarah wasn't going to say anything, Vera went on. "With you're track record, I'm surprised you're even still getting offers for parts."

"The perks of being the daughter of a famous actress." She said with mock-snobbishness, hoping it covered up any hint of bitterness that slipped through.

Vera snorted and took a drink. Unlike Sarah's own fancy latte sweetened to the point that it could be mistaken as a dessert, her friend always ordered her coffee black.

"I guess we're both back on the job hunt, then," Sarah said.

Vera shook her head. "Nope. As of ten a.m. this morning,_ I_ am officially employed."

"That's great!" said Sarah. "Congrats. Where's it at?"

"This little shop over on 8th Street called Hot Air Designers." Sarah's eyebrows rose at the name. Vera laughed. "They sell art. Blown glass actually. They even have classes in the back on the weekends. Since I work there I can go for free."

"That sounds interesting."

"It is. I—" Her eyes caught on something over Sarah's shoulder and she sucked in a breath. In a low voice she said, "Hot guy, two o'clock."

When her friend didn't react, she whined. "_Sarah_, you're not even _looking!_"

"I work in theatre, I see hot guys all the time. You want to talk about _hot air_…"

"Just look, will you!"

Sarah rolled her eyes but looked. The guy entering the coffee shop _was_ good looking, with longish dark hair neatly pulled back in a small ponytail. He had… poise, yes, that was the word, and very good posture. Even as he was forced to weave and dodge to get to the counter, he didn't hunch. He was wearing—dear lord!

Sarah whipped back around to stare at her friend, who was still openly admiring the man.

"Don't look at him!" she hissed.

"What? Why?"

"Because he might see you!"

"So? How else am I supposed to get his attention?"

"You don't want his attention!" said Sarah.

Vera looked at her and frowned. "What's you're problem? Why are you—?" Realization clicked. She glanced back at the man and her lips curled in a smile that promised bad things were coming. "It's his clothes, isn't it? The outfit."

"It's not," said Sarah, wondering if he would see her if she made a break for the door.

"It is." Vera laughed; it was too loud. People looked. The man looked and, oh damn, his gaze landed right on Sarah—and stuck. Sarah quickly turned her back, slumping as low as she could in her seat.

"It's just a costume," Vera told her. "He's probably on break or something. There's a playhouse just down the street."

"I don't care. I don't care why he's here. I don't care what he's wearing. _Stop looking at him_!"

"But I want to talk to him." And to Sarah's horror, Vera made an "over here" gesture to the man.

"I'm going to kill you," she said.

"You won't. This will be good for you."

"_In what way_?"

"Conquering your trauma or whatever it is. You reacted exactly like this when you tried out for that _Pride and Prejudice_ skit, and that guy who played Darcy came out all dressed like—"

"Shut. Up. Or I swear to god, Vera, I'll—"

The man was suddenly in front of their table. "Ladies?"

Sarah stiffened. There was no more denying where her panic was coming from, not with him so close. His clothes bared a terrifying resemblance to—no, she wouldn't even think his name. But the ruffled shirt, the regency-esque jacket, the riding boots, the… pants. He lacked the rakishly punk edge of—_him_, but it was still enough to make her stomach feel as if she'd swallowed a bucket full of biting pixies.

He gave them a small bow. "You wanted to see me?"

"I love a man who can stay in character," Vera said, giving him a suggestive smile. "I'm Vera, and this is my friend Sarah."

"It's very nice to meet the two of you. My name is Rasson."

"Rasson?" said Vera. "That's different. We were just admiring your costume. Sarah here is an actor too, you know."

"Are you?" His gaze swept over her. Sarah mumbled an affirmative but refused to meet his eyes. Let him think her rude. She didn't care. By her friend's glare, _she_ cared. Vera gave the man another once over and stopped at his empty hands.

"No coffee?"

"I actually came in here looking for someone," he said, and again Sarah felt his gaze on her. "I've found her, though, I think."

She did look at him then, his unnerving outfit forgotten at his words. What kind of line was that? But Vera only giggled—Sarah had _never_ heard her friend giggle like that before—and invited him to sit down. Sarah bit back a curse.

"I'm surprised you and Sarah don't already know each other," said Vera. She angled herself towards him, leaning just the smallest bit over the table so that her cleavage was displayed to its fullest in her red V-neck.

"A crime, truly," Rasson said, paying no attention to her less-than-subtle flirtations. His eyes practically burned into Sarah's and she cringed back. He noticed and frowned.

"So what play are you in?" Vera ran her arm up the sleeve of his jacket, lingering too long to be innocent. Sarah fought not to gape at her. Vera had never been what you'd call shy, but this was a bit much, even for her.

Sarah glanced around and saw that her friend wasn't the only one acting boldly. Many of the women around them were blatantly staring with want in their eyes. Alarms blared in Sarah's head. "Vera… I think—"

"The play I'm in is an old one," Rasson said. "I'm not sure you've ever heard of it."

Vera voice was husky as she murmured, "Try me."

"Very well." Without taking his eyes off Sarah, he said, "It's known as the _Labyrinth_."

Something crashed. Murmurs went up as people stared. Sarah realized she was standing and had knocked over her chair.

"Vera, we need to go right now."

"What? But why? I want to stay here and talk to Rasson." Her friend pouted, grabbing more firmly onto the man's arm.

"Have I said something to upset you?" Rasson asked, concern etched perfectly on his face, but his eyes said he _knew_. "Have you perhaps heard of this play?"

"It's not a play," Sarah whispered. God was it ever _not_. Fixing him with her most intimidating glare she said, "I don't know who your are or why you're here, but you stay away from me. Me and my friend. Vera, let's go."

"Oh, but—" Sarah grabbed her by the hand that wasn't clinging to the man and hauled her out of her seat. Vera, taken by surprise, lost her grip on him and Sarah pulled her towards the door. Rasson stood and the other women in the coffee shop closed in on him, giving heartfelt apologies on Sarah's behalf and offering to join him instead. He ignored them all, his gaze firmly fixed on Sarah. It reminded her of another gaze, one just as deep and even more powerful. Only _that_ gaze had left her torn between wanting to return and wanting to escape. With this one, escape was the only thing she could think of. Instinct screamed for it.

_Fae. He's Fae,_ she thought as she shoved people aside in her haste to reach the door, dragging Vera behind her. The few people not hypnotized—mostly men—stared but didn't try to stop them.

They all but fell out on the street. Sarah looked around. Which would be the safest way to go? Could Rasson track her? How had he found her in the first place? Who had sent him? Certainly not… not…

Sarah felt a tremble go through her as she voiced the name, suppressed for so many years. "Jareth."

After all this time, why would the Goblin King bother with her? She wasn't dumb enough to think he'd forgotten her—she'd earned her memorablility, at the very least—but surely he wasn't still mad enough to send… what was Rasson? An assassin? A kidnapper? Would he go after Toby?

_Don't think about that. One thing at a time._

She looked at Vera, who stood quite peacefully beside her now, though her expression was a bit dazed. "I forgot my coffee," she said.

"I'll treat you later. Come on, we're going to our apartment."

"What for?"

Because her mirror was there. And maybe Hoggle or Sir Didymus would have a better idea about what the hell was going on.

"Should've got his number," Vera murmured as she followed after Sarah. "Do you have to walk so fast? What's the hurry?"

Sarah risked a look behind them. She didn't see Rasson anywhere, though that didn't mean much. He was Fae, from the Underground. The clothes, the manners, the way the women were so attracted to him. She should've realized it sooner.

_Damn you, Jareth,_ she thought. _I didn't wish for this! _She'd made sure not to make a single wish, not aloud or otherwise since coming back from the Labyrinth. And it had hurt. Sarah hadn't realized how many wishes you could make, big or little, in the course of a day, a week, a month… years. Selfish wishes and spiteful wishes; hopeful wishes and sweet wishes; Lonely wishes and deep, needful wishes. It was nearly impossible to separate wishes from want, and to live without want… Everybody wanted something, even Sarah.

Especially Sarah.

They made it back to their apartment. Sarah went in first and found the living room to be Fae-free. Thank god.

Vera had gone from confused to bemused by this point. "Sarah, _what_ is wrong with you?"

Obviously she'd forgotten her reaction to Rasson, and she wouldn't understand the rest. How much trouble Sarah was in if…

"Stay here. I need a… um… private moment."

Vera did look concerned now. "Sarah—"

"I'm fine," she said, already down the hall and throwing open her bedroom door. She rushed in and stopped.

Rasson sat on her bed. "Hello, Sarah."

From the other room, Vera was still calling for her. Sarah whirled to run back and the door slammed shut, momentum from her lunge making her to smash into it. She grabbed the knob and jerked it, but though it turned easily enough, the door refused to open.

A long, hard body pressed against her back. Sarah sucked in a breath as gloved hands settled over on her shoulders.

"Time to go, Sarah," Rasson whispered.

Before Sarah could spit out so much as one word in argument—they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sensation of traveling to the Underground was not a pleasant one, for all that it was brief. It reminded Sarah of that sickening lurch she felt whenever she woke up from a doze too quickly. "Falling awake" they called it. That moment when your bearings aren't just lost, but gone completely, and your body is pitched backwards into empty space, sheer panic jolting you into consciousness a second later.

Most people shook off the unpleasant experience with little fuss. It happened so rarely, and it wasn't like they were in any _real_ danger. They weren't really falling. They weren't really lost. But Sarah remembered when that crystal had shattered and she'd been catapulted down. She'd lost sight of Jareth, and then she'd lost sight of everything else. The return to her world had felt interminable. At that moment, she would have welcomed even the Goblin King's hand if it would have guided her back to safety—even the relative safety of the Underground.

This time, at least, she was ready for it, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. Her stomach dropped at the sudden sensation of plummeting—though she would swear she wasn't moving—and she squeezed her eyes shut until the feeling passed. When she opened them again, she was standing in the middle of a lavish study. There was a walk-in fireplace with a fire as large and wild as a dancing firey in the grate, and a mahogany desk as big as her bed. Bookshelves filled with books and small knick-knacks—miniature busts of people she didn't recognize, some metal spindly thing that revolved in a slow, constant circle—filled the walls around her. It looked like a room she'd find in some rich lord's house during the Regency period, not an ancient Fae's.

"This… isn't the Underground," said Sarah. "Is it?"

From behind her, Rasson said, "Of course it is. Why, what did you think the Underground looked like?"

"It should be more medieval. Goblin City looked like something the poor lived in during the dark ages. And the castle was, well, a _castle_." She surveyed the room again, noticing one conspicuous absence—that of the Goblin King. Sarah didn't see so much as a stray owl feather or a sparkle of glitter. Huh.

"So you've been to here before. Interesting." Rasson let go of her shoulders and slid his gloved hands down her arms in a gentle caress. It gave Sarah chills and she jerked away. He frowned at her.

"Of course I've been here. Didn't the Goblin King tell you that before he sent you to get me?"

"What makes you think he sent me?"

Time seemed to pause at his words, though by the steady ticking of the mantle clock Sarah knew it hadn't. She stared at the Fae. "Didn't he?"

"No, he didn't."

There was no denying the lifting feeling Rasson's answered stirred in her. It wasn't quite relief, but it was strong enough and contrary enough to be unsettling, and she pushed it aside quickly. So the Goblin King hadn't been responsible. Really, that only made her situation worse. At least if it had been Jareth she would've known where she stood. Now she was at a loss.

"Dare I assume you've met his majesty?" Rasson asked. "Clearly you know about him and you've been to the dirty pile of stones he calls home."

"I…" Sarah stood there, unsure how to answer or if she even should. She still didn't know this Fae's intentions. Admitting to anything was a risk.

Rasson suddenly laughed. It was so musical that if not for its lower pitch, she would have thought it feminine. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" He held out his hand to her. "Why don't we go down to the dining room where you'll be more comfortable? We can discuss this over a late lunch."

Like Sarah was dumb enough to eat anything he gave her. She took a couple steps away from his outstretched hand. "Why don't you just tell me what you want now so I can tell you no and go home?" she said instead.

His frown came back. Rasson dropped his hand and huffed at her. "Really, what is wrong with you? Most women would be honored to have a private meal with me, and yet you're acting most… disagreeable."

"_Disagreeable_?" Sarah gaped at him. "You kidnapped me!"

"Normally that wouldn't matter." He held out his hand again. His gaze grew hot, just like it had back at the coffee shop. Sarah knew from being around Jareth that the Fae were naturally seductive, but was it possible they had _literal_ powers of seduction? Rasson certainly seemed to think he did.

_It worked well enough on Vera_, she reminded herself. _Not to mention every other woman in the coffee shop, and a few of the men too._

"Come eat with me, Sarah," Rasson said. "Come talk to me."

The sensual pleading in his voice freaked her out. She smacked his hand away before she could think better of it, yelling, "Don't touch me!"

He rushed her. Sarah stumbled backwards into the desk. Before she could move around it, Rasson was there, pinning her between his arms. "Fascinating," he said, peering down at her with way too much curiosity for Sarah's peace of mind. "You resist the attraction so well."

"There's no attraction to resist," she snapped, hoping that stayed true. "Now back off!"

Rasson ignored her, moving in so close Sarah was bowing backwards over the desk in her effort to escape him. "Is this why he's so obsessed with you?" he wondered aloud. "Is it your immunity to our glamour? But why would that be so appealing? Is there a limit to it? Does it only last so long, or will a certain amount of intimacy nullify it?" He crowded even closer into her personal space. Sarah wanted to shove him back, but if she let go of the desk while bent as she was she would fall, and the last thing she wanted was to be trapped beneath him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him. "But if you're thinking I'm going to suddenly throw myself at you and beg you to take me, it's not gonna happen. So if that's why I'm here you might as well let me go."

"That would have been ideal," Rasson admitted, looking not at all shamed. "But even still, I'm not going to release you."

"Why?" asked Sarah, honestly confused and, yes, starting to feel a bit desperate. "Why keep someone who wants nothing to do with you?"

At that, Rasson's face darkened with his first true signs of temper. "Because _he_ wants you," the Fae spat. "And I _will not let_… He _deserves_… Show _him_ who's the—"

"Who are you talking about?" But Sarah thought she already knew.

"_Jareth_." Rasson hissed the name. His hands balled into fists against the desk. So the Goblin King _was_ involved, even if only indirectly. Figured.

"Jareth doesn't want me," Sarah disagreed. "I don't know how much you know about what… happened between the two of us, but I guarantee you he has no interest—"

"You lie!" Rasson's hand came up and fisted in Sarah's hair. She gritted her teeth against the pain as he dragged her up. "You lie," he said again. "His majesty wants you, and now that you are mine, he will see… He will know how it _feels_…"

Rasson shook her. Several strands of hair parted ways with her scalp and Sarah yelped and grabbed at his wrist, trying to pull him off and mentally cursing Jareth. Was it not enough to wreak havoc on mortals? Now he had to go and piss off the Fae as well? And now she was being used as some… what? A human trophy to brag over?

Rasson noticed her struggling and seemed to come back to himself. In a carefully controlled voice he said, "I'm done with you for today. We will try this again tomorrow."

"Like hell we—" His fingers left her hair and he pushed her. Sarah fell back what should have been a single step but felt more like ten. Her arms pin-wheeled. When she caught her balance, she was standing in a sparsely furnished bedroom. Alone.

_Damn it!_

The room had several doors. Sarah tried them all, without success. The first door dead-ended in a bathroom that was modern enough in its plumbing to be jarring with the antiquated furnishings. The second door was locked, and the third was a French set that led out onto a balcony. Here her had hopes lifted—until she stepped outside and saw that she was on the fourth floor, with a stone patio that looked only too happy to break her fall (and her legs) should she try to jump down. The walls to her left and right were sheer, without so much as a sprig of ivy to climb. Hills that eventually gave way to thick woods surrounded the property. No one to hear her scream, or cry, or bitch loudly and at length—the last being the most likely.

Sarah sighed and went back in. There was a mirrored vanity next to the bed and she dropped down into the chair in front of it. She touched the glassy surface, ignoring the too-pale young woman who stared back at her with despairing eyes.

"Hoggle," she whispered, "I need you."

Nothing.

"Sir Didymus, are you there? Ludo?"

Still nothing. Well, she hadn't really expected—but still, she'd learned that it was better to try than to just assume…

Like Rasson had assumed.

She didn't know where he had gotten his information from, but he was going to get a rude shock if he paraded her around in front of the Goblin King and expected to make the royal Fae jealous.

Sarah's stomach clenched as she thought about what Jareth's reaction would be to that. Not so much what he would say to Rasson, for she could imagine that well enough. He would probably laugh, give the Fae his blessing and wish him better luck than he had. No, what made her feel sick was what Jareth would say to _her_. Would he sneer? Mock her? Tell her she deserved it for what she'd done to him?

_You're more worried about what Jareth will say than what Rasson will do to you when he realizes that you're not going to give in to him? Priorities, Sarah! _

Right. She looked around the room for another possible way out, but failed to find one. _Doesn't matter_, she told herself. Tomorrow, Rasson would come for her again. She would find a way to escape then. If she could beat the Labyrinth and the Goblin King, surely she could beat one bitter Fae in his out-of-date mansion.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Rasson brought her breakfast in bed. Well, it was more like breakfast at the vanity, since Sarah hadn't dared to so much as <em>sit<em> on the bed's well-cushioned mattress the previous night. Rasson made no comment on her unusual choice of sleeping area—in which there had been very little sleeping—and handed her the silver platter with a wink and a whispered, "Good morning, Sarah," that made her stiffen and glare at him.

At her less-than-encouraging response, he sighed and said, "Still nothing, then?"

"And it's going to stay that way," she told him, though she had secretly been worried about the same thing he'd been hoping for—that her immunity would wear off overnight.

The silver platter was heavy with eggs, biscuits, sausage and bacon, plus something that looked like the Underground version of pancakes. There was even a slim vase with a single red rose in it. Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed it all away, though her stomach complained audibly.

"You're going to have to eat sometime," Rasson said, his tone reproachful.

She snorted. "You forget, I've been here before. I know the tricks when it comes to drugging food. I won't fall for it."

"Drugging food?" Rasson pondered that a moment. "I would never have thought to… but, yes, I suppose that might work as a plan B…"

Sarah rolled her eyes. Did he have no shame at all? Or intelligence? She was _right there. _And she was the one who _said it._ How stupid did he think she was? It seemed having absolute control over mortals for so long, he'd forgotten when to watch his tongue around them. Maybe that would work in her favor—_if_ she could learn to control her own.

_Note to self, _she thought. _Don't give him any more ideas about how to get to me. _Because, apparently, he would take them!

"Did the Goblin King do that to you?"

Her response was automatic. "Do what?"

"Use food to drug you?"

She'd all but said that already, which was probably why he nodded even when she didn't answer, saying, "So you were resistant to him as well. That's something, at least."

_Not as resistant as I wanted to be_.

"You obviously aren't fond of him," the Fae went on. "You should be using this opportunity to get back at his majesty. You stand to gain from this too, you realize."

Sarah shot him a warning look. "Nice try, but I don't want to get back at him; I just want to go home. Besides, you're just as bad as he is, if not worse. I would never team up with someone like you."

Rasson looked shocked. And then insulted. "You dare to compare me to _him_? I am nothing—"

"No?" She raised her eyebrows at the Fae. "You use your power to scramble women's hormones and seduce them." Even Jareth hadn't done that. He'd played on her fantasies to delay her, true, but even at his most merciless, he had never tried to force her to do anything intimate, had never taken the advantage he _could_ have. Did that necessarily make it better? Sarah had wondered that for years and still wasn't sure.

"They're perfectly willing—" Rasson started to say. Sarah's patience snapped.

"You drug women so they have no control over their reactions to you! We have a word for that where I come from!"

"I ready their minds, bodies, _and_ hearts!" Rasson defended. "Men from _your_ world are lucky to manage even one of those!"

"But the effort is their own."

"Well I'm certainly putting in the _effort_ now, am I not?" he said hotly. "Come!"

He grabbed her by the hand and hauled her up. It seemed to take twice as long it should have to be pulled upright. She made it to her feet and found them standing in a modest garden.

"What—"

His face a mask of false cheer, Rasson tucked Sarah's hand into the crook of his elbow, holding it there when she tried to pull away. "We are going to spend the day together, my dear Sarah. See if a little time in each other's company does anything to sweeten that disposition of yours towards me."

"Ten bucks says it gets worse."

"What a rude thing to say." Rasson led her down a well-worn trail between some rose bushes that were more thorns than flowers. "And impractical anyways. Deer can't survive in the Underground. Too many predators."

Sarah rolled her eyes but didn't bother to correct him.

She spent the entire day in Rasson's company, just as he said they would. And Sarah's mood did not improve, just as she said it wouldn't. After they finished wandering the garden—"The one outside the labyrinth is more impressive," Sarah said, just to irritate him—Rasson led her to the patio she'd spotted below her balcony for lunch. Though the bread was fresh baked and the soup smelled heavenly, Sarah sat in stubborn silence while Rasson ate, refusing to try even a bite. Rasson lingered over the food on purpose—payback, perhaps, for her earlier comment—and then took her to a small library where he pulled out a book of Fae poetry and read to Sarah for the rest of the afternoon, one arm slung around her shoulders to keep her from leaving the small couch he'd forced her onto. Every so often he would pause to look over at her—was she feeling drawn to him yet?—and Sarah almost laughed at his put-upon frown when he caught her once in the middle of a yawn.

By dinner, Sarah was both famished and exhausted, but she managed to stay awake enough to snub every plate of food that was set before her. It was her first time seeing any of the servants, but when she tried to catch their eye in a silent plea for help, they all turned away, as if they hadn't seen or didn't care.

"Did you use magic to make them this loyal?" she asked when yet another servant carrying dessert ignored her.

Rasson smirked. "I did not. But you seem to be under a misapprehension, Sarah. Bringing mortals to the Underground is not illegal. Rare, perhaps, but nothing more. Now—" He leaned in close. In a sultry whisper he said, "Why don't we retire somewhere more private?"

Sarah wasn't sure what made her do it. Frustration perhaps. Nerves. Anger for sure. It was stupid, and she knew even as her fist came up that she would regret it, but as she felt his nose crack under her knuckles she still took a vicious satisfaction in being able—if only for a moment—to get the upper hand.

Rasson howled and fell back in his seat. Sarah jumped to her feet and made a break for the door. She half-expected it to slam shut on her, but it didn't, and neither did any of the others she ran through in her escape from the house.

Outside, evening was setting fast. The sun had all but vanished beyond the tree line. Sarah ran towards it. There were no roads, but they would have been too obvious to take anyway. She had no idea how to escape the Underground, but for now she would settle with just escaping Rasson.

Lack of sleep and food had her energy running out quicker than she would've liked. Soon she slowed to a walk, but even when her legs started wobbling and night had made her all but blind, she kept going. She didn't see any creatures, helpful or otherwise, though all around her insects chirped and buzzed. They didn't sound anything like the peaceful crickets and cicadas from Aboveground. The noises they made were too… sharp, too threatening, though Sarah didn't feel any particular fear toward them. If she'd been another bug, however…

Eventually even walking became too much. Sarah tripped over an exposed tree root and once on her knees couldn't make herself get up again. She had barely started to wonder if she was far enough away to safely rest for the night when a voice above her said, "Done running yet?"

Her heart sunk. She looked up. Rasson stood on a tree branch above her, his Fae skin giving off a soft, phosphorescent glow. Sarah mentally cursed. Couldn't he have at least _pretended_ to have trouble catching her?

He jumped out of the tree and landed with silent grace in font of her. His nose, she noticed, looked as perfect as ever. Only the bloodstain on his shirtfront and the ache in her hand revealed otherwise. His gaze was flinty. "Well?"

Knowing it wasn't what he was referring to, Sarah replied, "You look like a freaky night-light."

Rasson straightened a bit. "I'd ask you if you found it attractive, but I think I think at this point—" He touched his nose gently, "—that would be a foolish question."

"Glad you finally realized that," said Sarah. Rasson's gaze narrowed.

"These woods go on for miles," he said. "You will never make it through them without provisions, directions, and protection. None of which, I might point out, you have."

"I thought you just said you got this?" said Sarah in exasperation. "I don't care what I have to do, or how impossible it is! If it means getting away from you, I'll do anything." She jabbed finger at him. "And you should know, if you insist on keeping me, I'll make your life a living hell. You think I've been a pain in the ass to deal with so far? I'll be ten times worse if you keep me here."

Rasson was suddenly in front of her, close enough to make her own skin glow. "You're not the only one who can make things difficult, Sarah," he said. "Perhaps there is nothing I can do to make you give in to me, but I _will_ have my revenge on the Goblin King, and I _will_ use you to do it, with or without your willing participation." He backed up a step, spreading his arms wide. A mean little smile curved his lips. "So strike out at me as much as you want, run whenever you feel like running, but the end result will always be the same." He reached up and, before she could react, flicked her right in the forehead. Sarah blinked and she was back in her room. Alone. His meaning could not be any clearer.

Suspicious and worried, Sarah went to her door and found it unlocked. She opened it and looked out into the hallway. It was empty. No one to stop her. She shut the door and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes against the sudden urge to cry. She could run again, and when she stopped Rasson would just come and collect her, or she could stay here and… not give up, but… what else?

Sarah let out a yell of frustration and pounded the door with her fists, sending new bolts of pain up her already injured hand.

Two choices, both wrong.

So which one should she pick?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sarah didn't leave again that night. Exhausted and downhearted, she grabbed a pillow from off the bed and slept on the floor. Pointless perhaps, but it was the principle of the thing. She would not sleep in a bed owned by Rasson, even one in the guest room.

By morning, her stomach was an aching pit. Rasson brought her breakfast again, his attitude subdued but smug. He did not try to flirt, or even touch her as he held out the tray. On it was a bowl of fresh berries and cream and a chocolate muffin as big as her hand. Sarah's mouth watered and she might have whimpered a little, but she didn't take it. Rasson rolled his eyes and set it down next to her.

"I have things to attend to today," he told her. "So you will have to entertain yourself. I assume you have no issues with this."

So God was still granting small favors after all. When she failed to respond, Rasson frowned and said, "Is this your new strategy, Sarah? Ignoring me?"

Actually, she'd just been too distracted fighting her urge to demolish the muffin—only a few tantalizing inches away!—to think of an appropriately snarky retort, but snubbing him did sound good, so she turned her head away.

"Don't you think that's a bit childish?" he asked. His words were a nostalgic punch in the gut, but she told herself not to rise to the bait. She kept up the deaf act until Rasson finally snapped, "Fine!" and left the room.

After he was gone, she took the tray and dumped it all over the side of her balcony, unable to stand the temptation a second more. She gazed down at the splattered remains of her breakfast with longing, then went to take a shower, drinking water out of the sink and praying the Fae wasn't smart enough to drug that too.

She found clean clothes in a corner bureau. Simple but finely made dresses, undergarments and slippers. She was loath to use any of it, but after last night's escape attempt, her clothes were stiff with sweat and dirt. Sarah put on a long-sleeved green dress with silver trim but kept her sneakers. There weren't any boots to be found and the slippers wouldn't last a day scuffing over rough terrain.

She'd thought about it hard last night, and decided that she would try the woods again. Rasson could be lying about the extent of their isolation, or there might be another, secret way out, if only she could find it. Which is why, when Sarah stepped outside and no one stopped her, she headed in the opposite direction she'd taken the night before.

The trees surrounded the property, but she found a little trail this time and followed it. Unfortunately, after about an hour, it faded, and she found herself surrounded on all sides by prickly brushes and sappy trees. But she kept going. Every so often she was forced to rest, and sat there fearing the appearance of Rasson or some other creature of the wood, but nothing showed.

Until evening, that is.

"Had enough for the day?"

Sarah turned to find the Fae she now considered a greater nemesis than even Jareth standing behind her. His arms were crossed and his expression was one of exasperation verging on annoyance. "I could come back in a few more hours, if you'd like to walk some more," he said mockingly.

The curse was on the tip of her tongue, but then she remembered that she was snubbing him and choked it back. She settled with giving him a nasty look instead.

"The party is going to be very boring if you continue to hold your tongue like that," Rasson said.

The question, "What party?" slipped out before Sarah could stop it. His smile was one of victory. She wanted to punch him again.

"Why, the one I'm throwing two nights hence to celebrate my newest acquisition." He gave her a slight bow. "That would be you, of course."

"You—" There were no words bad enough.

"You should feel flattered," said Rasson. "Most mortals do not get such a come out."

"I won't go."

"You will. Even if I have to give you a little _push_ to get you there." On the word push, he reached out to do just that. Sarah raised her hands to ward him off, but when she grabbed his hand, it vanished beneath her fingers and the woods dissolved. Dizziness swept her and she was back in her room yet again.

There was another tray of food was on her vanity. Sarah held her breath so she wouldn't smell it, then took it and dumped its contents once more over the balcony, releasing her breath on an angry scream as she watched it all fall. At least with the Labyrinth, there had been a time limit. This hell she was in now had no end.

* * *

><p>The next day, Sarah didn't wake until noon, and even then, she found her energy lagging—going days without food would do that. Instead of heading once more for the woods, she decided to explore the house for a way out. It was something else she'd learned from her time in the Labyrinth: distances could be deceiving. To get to someplace far, sometimes you had to go to someplace near.<p>

The house was bigger than she'd thought, and Sarah worried about running across a room similar to the Escher one, but all of them stayed true to the laws of physics and were, in fact, disappointingly normal. None of the mirrors heeded her calls for her friends, and she found no room or doorway that led back to the Aboveground. Once, she closed the door on a hall closet to find Rasson standing there, looking amused, but she pretended not to see him and he didn't follow her or show up again during her search.

That night, she went out to the garden. She knew more food would be waiting for her and she didn't trust herself to be able to throw it out again.

She found a bench and dropped down onto it. The stars were much brighter here, and Sarah wondered what it meant to be "Underground" that there was a visible sky and space beyond it. If she'd been into astronomy, she might've been able to tell something from the arrangement of the stars, but she wasn't. There was one moon, three-quarters full, that looked the same as the one Aboveground, but that was hardly evidence of anything.

She used to be able to find the big dipper. Sarah looked for it, glad to have something to focus on besides the hopeless situation she was in. She couldn't go on much longer like this. At the very least, she was going to have to start eating again soon, and now that Rasson knew he could drug her food, God knew what kind of horrible nightmare she'd wind up in after taking her first bite.

Something passed by overhead. The glow of the moon caught it and Sarah froze. It was an owl. It didn't see her, continuing to wing its way West, towards the never-ending trees.

_Jareth_.

Sarah didn't know what made her think that. There had to be plenty of other, _ordinary_ owls in the Underground, ones that didn't turn into fickle Fae kings. But the sight of it had her pulse racing and she couldn't help but think—

Sarah leapt up and took off after it, knowing that the odds of Jareth helping her, even if he did stop, were slim to none, but determined to try nonetheless.

"Jareth!" She screamed the name into the night. The owl didn't so much as pause in its flight. Was it because he couldn't hear, or was he ignoring her? "_Jareth!_"

Sarah could barely see it now. Another second and she lost it in the black between the stars. Frustration burned her throat. She wished that for _once_ something would go—

Habit had her cutting the thought short. But as she stood there, starving, exhausted, and more lost than she'd ever felt inside the Labyrinth, she wondered. Wishing was something she hadn't tried yet. She'd quelled the impulse for so long, she hadn't even thought to. Until now.

_Could it be that easy?_

"I… I wish…" Heart pounding, she search the skies for her fateful fowl. "I wish the Goblin King would—"

Someone grabbed her from behind. Sarah yelped as she was thrown into something that cracked against her back. Rasson stood before her, looking livid. "You would dare… You would dare to call _him_… in my own…"

They were in her bedroom. Sarah was sprawled against the vanity. She started to scramble off it, but Rasson grabbed her by the throat, just tight enough to make her wheeze, and shoved her back. Glass from the broken mirror cut into her back. If Sarah had thought she'd seen the Fae angry before, this was nothing to the murderous rage he was is now.

"Call for the Goblin King again, and I will kill you," he said in a deadly whisper. "Jareth may come, but he won't be fast enough to save you, and presenting him with your dead body will serve me just as well." His grip tightened and Sarah struggled as her vision began to gray. "In fact, the more I think about it, the better the idea sounds. Maybe I _should_ just kill you. What do you think?"

Sarah opened her mouth to curse him, but with no air, all she manage were a few horrible gurgling noises she would've been embarrassed by if she wasn't so lightheaded. Her lungs burned. She could barely see Rasson through all the black spots clouding her vision.

"Come, come, Sarah," he said with mock impatience, "This silent treatment of yours has grown old." He let her go, but even as she coughed and sucked in oxygen she felt her consciousness failing.

Rasson did not catch her when she fell.

* * *

><p>Jareth thought he might finally be losing it. After so many years of spying on Sarah through his crystals, listening as she chatted to her friends, read to her brother, conversed with her family, and even—though he could never stand to listen long—whispered to her lovers, he knew Sarah's voice in all its variations, and had daydreamed her speaking to him and saying his name an innumerable amount of times over the years, and in an innumerable amount of ways. In a tone filled with laughter, in a voice filled with want. Happily, needfully.<p>

But to be out flying and hear her shout for him so suddenly, in such fearful desperation, and when he had been entertaining no daydreams about her at all, disturbed him greatly. If he was starting to hear Sarah even without consciously thinking about her…

He shook his feathered head. Best to ignore it. If he started humoring his delusions, who knew what that might lead to? Besides—Jareth glanced back at the giant mansion now half a mile behind him—this wasn't the Aboveground, this was Rasson's estate. Sarah couldn't possibly be here.

Rasson. The name had Jareth letting out an agitated screech. Rasson was smart and hard working to a fault, but when the Goblin King had hired him, he'd been under the mistaken impression that the Fae possessed a sense of humor. All his friends and family had said so, when he'd questioned them. But so far, Rasson seemed incapable of making—or taking—a joke. And worse, he was an annoying perfectionist. Just the other day he'd shown up at the castle _insisting_ that the official encyclopedia on the Goblin Kingdom and its inhabitants was "woefully" out of date and needed immediate updating, as if that book had been opened even _once_ prior to the nit-picking Fae getting his hands on it. Every creature here knew everything about themselves and their neighbors that they needed to, and if a Fae visited who _didn't_ know, well, Jareth wasn't about to offer them a book for enlightenment. That would ruin the fun.

"Only you can rectify this, your majesty," Rasson had told him gravely. "It would take me months to go out and collect all the necessary information. But with your ability to Change and fly, it should take you a week at most."

Jareth hadn't wanted to go, and the idea of having months without the anal retentive Fae dogging his steps complaining sounded really good to him. But there was no arguing Rasson's reasoning, and after an hour of listening to the Fae lecture him about his "obligations as king," Jareth had given in and promised to head out the next day. Rasson had told him what information to collect and then departed with an excited, "I can't wait to see what you bring back, my lord!" The Fae had dematerialized mid-skip. It was the happiest Jareth had ever seen him.

_He bloody well be appreciative when I give it to him tomorrow_, the Goblin King thought. Having to survive on rodents for a week just so he could confirm things such as that the Knockers were still partial to mines and not swamps, was not something that put him in a good mood. Plus, he'd missed the first few days of filming for Sarah's movie.

He was curious to see if she'd dropped out yet.

When he made it back to the castle, most of the goblins were there, waiting for him. They cheered as he Changed back into his Fae form as if he'd pulled off some miraculous feat, though they'd seen him do it thousands of times before. They grabbed at him, sitting on his feet for a ride and clutching at his hands and arms so he would swing them. No wonder mortals thought they were transmuted children. They acted like two year olds on a sugar high.

"So how much trouble did all of you get into during my absence?" he asked, kicking off the ones who'd jumped onto his boots as he might knock soil off his heel.

"None! We's swear it!" one cried, and the rest cackled with laughter.

"Uh-huh." Jareth entered his throne room. There was a chicken nesting on his throne. He booted the chicken—to the squeals of the goblins—tossed the two eggs that were there for someone to catch—or not—and cleaned away the feathers, straw, and bird droppings with a burst of power. Then he knocked away the rest of the goblins from his person and dropped down into his seat with a thankful groan. Sometimes, at the end of the day, a comfy throne was all a Fae needed.

_Though having a woman to share it with would be even nicer…_

Jareth slammed his mind shut on the thought before the inevitable vision of just _who_ he'd like to share such a seat with could form. He pulled out a crystal, and telling himself it was just because he was bored, and not because he particularly _cared_, called up Sarah.

The crystal stayed clear.

For a moment, Jareth could only stare at it. That had never, in all his years of ruling the Underground, happened before.

He shook it. Aloud he said, "Show me Sarah."

It was an amateur way to work with magic. The Goblin King hadn't had to cast a spell aloud in centuries. And still, nothing happened.

Around him, the Goblins bounced and laughed and sang, unaware of his fast-growing inner turmoil. Jareth thought about that strange auditory hallucination he'd had earlier. Sarah, calling his name. She'd sounded panicked. Could something have happened to her in the Aboveground? He couldn't imagine what would block his Crystals though, or why she would call to _him_. Her voice shouldn't have reached him. She hadn't called for him properly, after all. Had that been part of… But no, it wasn't that.

"Get me Hoggle," he commanded his goblins. It worked best if he just commanded them all. That way, at least one or two were bound to hear and obey.

Several hurried off. Jareth continued to try and reach Sarah through the crystal, but it remained empty.

_Sarah, Sarah, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?_ he thought, gripping the small orb tightly in his gloved fist.

"You wanted to see me?" a gravely voice muttered. "Your majesty," it added as a bitter afterthought.

Jareth looked up, surprised. It was odd for the dwarf to come so quickly. Normally he took great pains—and delight—in dragging his feet when answering a summons.

"When was the last time you talk to Sarah?" Jareth demanded.

"What's it to you?" Hoggle grumbled, but his nervous shifting from foot to foot and the way he refused to meet The Goblin King's gaze ruined his tough talk.

"Do I need to threaten you with the Bog?" Jareth asked, both of them knowing that the question itself was a threat.

Hoggle silently waffled a bit, but finally said, "Can't says I know the exact last time she called. Two weeks I s'pose."

"And is that usual?"

More waffling. Hoggle scowled. "I've got better things to do than keep track… doesn't matter to me none if she doesn't—"

"You should appreciate that Sarah deigns to talk to you at all," Jareth sneered over Hoggle's defensive bluster. He knew damn well that the dwarf _lived_ for the moments he could speak to his mortal friend, and so did everyone else. Why he continued to keep up such prideful indifference… Then again, Jareth knew firsthand what kind of pain you opened yourself up to when you didn't.

"I'll have your guess then," Jareth said. "How late is Sarah in contacting you?"

Hoggle squinched his eyes as if pretending to think. Finally he said, "Few days."

Jareth thought. If something happened to Sarah that kept her from talking to Hoggle _days_ ago, then why would he hear her call, or whatever it had been, less than an hour ago?

"Hey! Where you going?" Hoggle said as Jareth stood and strode past him.

"The Aboveground."

"Above—why? Is something wrong with Sarah?"

Jareth looked down at the little dwarf, taking in the way Hoggle twisted his hands so hard that dirt was flaking off onto the floor.

"You know how Sarah is," Jareth heard himself say. "She gets herself out of trouble as easily as she gets herself into it."

Hoggle bobbed his head. It was only too true, after all. Jareth Changed back into an owl and flew off. Hoggle watched him go. He'd half-hoped, when the goblins had told him Jareth wanted to see him, that the Goblin King had news about Sarah, but apparently Jareth knew little more than he did.

That even the royal Fae was in the dark was not comforting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Apparently, humans weren't the only ones who had an affinity for sideshow attractions. Fae, too, seemed drawn to the rare and unnatural.

Well, what was rare and unnatural to _them_.

Sarah stood next to Rasson's chair, staring out at the ballroom and all the beautiful, glittering, luminous Fae that filled it. She must have been gawked over, sneered at, and laughed about by at least two hundred Fae so far. They leered, they mocked. Some offered to buy her while others shied away in disgust. Like Rasson, they made no attempt at all to censor what they said around her, speaking to their host as if Sarah wasn't standing two feet away, perfectly capable of hearing and understanding them.

"She's surprisingly attractive—for a human," said one rotund Fae who was in danger of being smothered by his voluminous neck ruffle.

"How's her stamina in bed?" asked another, rubbing his hand over the cane he held in a way that made Sarah's skin crawl. "I hear humans tend to tire quickly if you don't take care."

"I still wouldn't do her," said a third man bluntly.

One Fae, a younger woman with sapphire colored eyes, snuck up so quietly behind her that Sarah didn't even notice until she poked her in the arm. It wasn't a, "Hey, over here," kind of poke, but the kind of poke a child might give an insect, as if she expected Sarah's skin to be cold, or slimy, or less substantial then her own.

Sarah, thoroughly humiliated and pissed off by this point, bared her teeth and snapped at the girl as if to bite her. The Fae squeaked and hurried away. It brought Sarah a dark satisfaction to see her flee, and came with the added bonus that afterwards, everyone who came up to view her kept their hands safely clasped behind their backs and away from her person. Though their wariness kept her safe, if they knew how sick and weak she really was, they wouldn't have been… They wouldn't have bothered to…

Sarah lost her grip on the thought and let it go, not caring enough to snatch it back. She couldn't concentrate worth a damn anymore. Every time she tried to formulate a plan, she forgot it. Every time a specific worry about tonight or tomorrow rose up, it deflated before real fear could set in. Hard to pinpoint where the problem stemmed from. This would make four days she'd gone without food, and because Rasson hadn't let her out of his sight all day, she hadn't even been able to steal sips of water from the sink. Her temple hurt from where the floor had met her head when she had passed out. There was an ugly purple bruise there, but it had been artfully covered by a swath of bangs arranged just-so by Rasson. She'd also lost a lot of blood from where she'd smashed into the mirror. Any of these things could be the cause of her… Could be the cause of… Well, could be the cause.

Rasson had been furious when he'd found out her injuries hadn't healed overnight, and seemed to think she was somehow doing it on purpose out of spite.

"I know humans don't heal as fast as Fae," he'd said, "But you've had _hours_ now. There really is no call for this kind of behavior."

Sarah had been in too much pain to argue.

He'd done her hair, threatened her into a dress, and gave her a high collar to wear with it, to hide the finger-shaped bruises around her neck from where he'd almost strangled her.

Sarah ran her damp palms over the fabric, sweaty despite the chill in the air. She hoped it left a stain. If she had been offered food she would have taken it just so she could smear it on her outfit and make Rasson looked like a idiot for keeping such a unhinged creature, anything to get back at him, but she hadn't been offered any. She hadn't even been allowed to sit. The way she was being treated, she was half surprised he hadn't put her in a cage, or on a leash.

Her hands fisted against the fabric. The dress was pure white with a low neckline and without any kind of bow, ruffle or bustle to hide the shape of her figure, which was the purpose, she was sure. The silky fabric clung to the slope of her breasts, the flair of her hips and bottom, trailing down to ripple around her slippered feet. The collar was independent from the rest of the dress and buttoned at the base of her throat. It was silver in color and fanned up and out, brushing her earlobes when she turned her head.

Not that Sarah was doing much moving, of her head or otherwise. Even if she hadn't been starving and utterly exhausted, her back was a throbbing mess of pain that threatened to throw her back into unconsciousness with every shallow breath she took. She needed a hospital. She could still feel shards of glass from the mirror buried deep in her skin. Rasson had commanded a servant to come clean her up, but the girl had been inexperienced to the point of incompetence. Armed with only tweezers and some gauze to sop up the blood, she had dug into Sarah's back in a way that felt like she was plucking at raw nerves. After several agonizing minutes, Sarah hadn't been able take anymore and made her bandage it as is. Rasson had watched the whole thing with open disgust, shaking his head when Sarah cried for the servant to cease, saying, "If you would just heal yourself, you'd be fine."

Sarah glared at the passing dancers, hating them all for enjoying themselves at her expense and thinking she'd wish them all to hell if they weren't already there. Watching the sea of gliding, twirling, prancing Fae made her feel dizzy and nauseous. The twinkling yellow lights that decorated the hall softened everyone's features and dress, making them blend together into one big blur that sparkled and heaved. Or maybe it wasn't the lights and her vision was going. Some of the couples that passed her did have a disturbing set of twins dancing along beside them in perfect sync.

Weightlessness buffeted her like a warm gust of air, making her legs wobble and her head drift dangerously back. Sarah caught herself at the last second, gripping the armrest of the high-backed chair Rasson occupied—his own little throne. Crap. She refused to pass out here. Not in front of all these Fae who would laugh and point. Not where she couldn't defend herself if they decided taking advantage of her unconscious body might be a good way to spice up the evening.

Rasson hadn't noticed her near faint. Three Fae women, all of equal beauty, were currently demanding his full attention with their flirting glances and small lace fans that fluttered just a bit too often over their low-cut dresses. They had little interest in Sarah. After offering their congratulations to Rasson, they had launched immediately into more important topics. Namely, themselves.

Sarah decided to take them up on their inadvertent distraction. Careful not to catch Rasson's attention or anyone else's, she eased herself back towards the closest door, biting her lip against the pain as her back protested the movement. The edges of her vision went dark. She took a deep breath and told herself she only needed to make it one more step. Then one more. One more… One more…

She was shaking and severely lightheaded by the time she reached the exit, but pride at her victory kept her moving. The door led to an empty hallway. Her body wanted to collapse here but she pressed herself against the wall and willed her strength to last. Passing out here would be little better. As soon as Rasson realized she was gone, he could come find her. But if she could make it to… If she could only reach…

It wasn't concentration that failed her this time, but an answer. There simply wasn't anywhere that she could go that Rasson couldn't bring her right back.

Tears threatened. Her knees began to buckle. Sarah gritted her teeth and locked them. No. _No_. She wouldn't go down like this. She'd figure something out. There had to be something, something she wasn't thinking of. If only she could _think!_

Heavy footsteps sounded from around the corner, the steps quick but precise, booted feet in a hurry. A guest running late, perhaps. Sarah didn't have the energy to try and hide herself. There was nothing to take cover behind anyway besides a pedestal a few feet to the right of the door, on which sat the bust of a woman who looked faintly like Rasson.

Magic, cool and turbulent, suddenly battered against the high walls and swirled around Sarah like an angry wind. It felt familiar, that magic. She tried to convince herself that she was just imagining things, but the next second the Goblin King appeared around the corner, and she knew the very scene she had feared was coming to pass.

Jareth saw her and froze. The reaction had Sarah catching her breath. Suddenly having the Goblin King's full and undivided attention was no small thing, and it had been a while since she'd last been subject to it. His gaze alone was a force that took extreme willpower to hold, and Sarah was not at her peak right now.

The magic that until that point had run wild before him now focused on her, flowing over and around her body much more intently than it had before, much more intimately. It made her feel naked and exposed, and she flapped a shaking hand in an attempt to fend it off. Instantly it died down to lap at her ankles, but one surge of power from Jareth and she knew she'd be submerged in it again.

He looked the same as ever, beautiful and arrogant and wild. His thick blonde hair was in a messy tangle about his head, his chin tilted up just the slightest bit in haughtiness. His were lips pulled tight in an expression Sarah couldn't read.

He wasn't dressed in formal attire like everyone else she'd seen that evening. Instead, he wore travel leathers over a white shirt that was wrinkled and dirty. The laces of his vest had come undone and his boots were scuffed. She looked back up at his face and noticed what she'd missed on the first pass: a blonde shadow of scruff along his jawline. This was not the carefully disheveled rogue she remembered. This was a Fae in a genuine state of disarray, and damn him, he still looked gorgeous.

"Sarah." His voice was a husky melody that wrapped around her, promising safety and comfort and sweet things. Lies. Always lies. She knew better than to believe the concern in his voice was real, but it hurt to hear it when she knew she couldn't trust it. He was so good at sounding sincere when he wasn't.

She turned her head away and clung to the wall, taking a deep breath before asking, "What are you doing here, Goblin King?"

Jareth cocked his head, taking a few steps closer. The magic around her feet rose to brush at her calves before sinking back down.

"I heard you were taken by a… friend of mine."

Sarah snorted. It made her head spin. "He hates your guts. Rasson."

"So I am beginning to realize." Jareth's tone was dry. Sarah felt herself start to smile, then realized what she was doing and stopped. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the wall. It was cool and felt nice against her bruise.

"That's why he took me and invited you here," she said. "To rub it in your face that he had something you wanted. He didn't believe it when I tried to tell him you wouldn't care."

"What makes you so sure I wouldn't?"

Sarah opened her eyes and found that he was a lot closer now. Too close. She jerked back and the room spun, making her stumble. She couldn't catch herself and fell to her knees, pain shooting up her back. The magic splashed up around her like water.

Jareth knelt in front of her. Hands incased in soft leather gloves took hold of her shoulders. She didn't dare shake him off, too scared of the pain it would cause.

"You're injured," he said, as if she didn't know. "Did Rasson do this to you?"

It was too much. Angry tears burned her eyes.

"_Don't_. Don't act like you came here to… As if you actually…." She cursed and clutched her head, searching for the words and unable to find them. She was falling apart right in front of the Goblin King and she hated it.

"I know you better than that," she said finally.

"Do you?" His voice was cool. "Tell me then, why did I come here?"

Sarah clenched her jaw. "To mock me, I expect. You seem to enjoy doing that."

Was that why he'd come dressed like this? Had he been in such a rush to humiliate her?

He snorted. "Only when you're being ridiculous, like now. Try again."

Sarah wasn't up for guessing games. "Just tell me, since I'm sure anything I say will be equally _ridiculous_ to you."

He looked at her. His face was fuzzy around the edges—her vision was really going now—but his eyes were crystal clear.

Gently, his hands drifted down her arms to cover her hands, which rested against the floor. They were the only things left keeping her from collapsing flat on her face. Her back certainly wasn't up to supporting her any longer.

Leather, soft as butter, wrapped around her wrists and pulled her hands up. It forced her lean against him, to use _his_ support instead of the floor's. She glared at him, onto his subtle power play, but knew if she tried to yank herself free she'd topple like a house of cards.

"What if I told you," he whispered. "That I came to help you?"

"I'd say 'what's the catch?'" said Sarah.

"You always assume the worst of me."

"You say that like there's a best to you."

Even half out of it like she was, she still saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes before his gaze abruptly hardened. The glimpse of raw emotion took her aback. Had that been real, or just another trick? _Argh_, she could never tell with him!

"Even if there was a catch," he said, his tone nonchalant. "Would it really matter? You're being held prisoner here, and not even as a well-kept one. Could anything I possibly ask of you in return for stealing you away really be that bad?"

"Do I need to list all the things you did to me in the Labyrinth?" Sarah said, anger at the memories giving her strength. "You tried your best to kill me several times."

"Outwit you, not kill. I never would have let you be harmed."

"Coulda fooled me," she muttered. "And what about the drugs? And the intimidation tactics. And the _mind games_. You made me think— I mean, you even pretended that you—" She couldn't say it, even though _he_ was the one who should have been embarrassed by it, not her. She wasn't the one who had all but groveled for her to stay. She wasn't the one who had so shamelessly made such a desperate and passionate offer just to win a game.

"I pretended what?" His tone dared her to say it, to put it out there directly, but Sarah couldn't do it and she didn't know why. No, she knew why. She was terrified what he would say about it, that he would find a way to belittle it and leave _her_ feeling like the idiot for believing, for even a moment, that he had been sincere, for wishing _so hard_ that—

"Make a wish, Sarah," he said as if he could read her mind. "Give me your wish and I will grant it. I will take you away from here. I will see you healed properly. Whatever you want."

Not whatever she wanted. And she had no doubt that though he would do those things, they would come at a price. Would he make her stay with him instead? Would he take Toby again as payment? She just didn't know and, she realized with something akin to despair, she couldn't take the risk.

Jareth saw the decision in her eyes. Giving a bitter laugh he said, "You just can't stand to give me anything, can you?"

"And _you_ can't stand to do anything out of the kindness of your heart with no strings attached," Sarah shot back.

The Goblin King's gaze went flat. With his free hand, he traced a pattern over her cheek. It was warm and she felt it seep into her skin. The pain in her body lessened, but it also made her feel drowsier, and she was already too close to passing out. She pulled away and his hand fell.

"If only strings were enough to hold you," he murmured.

Before she could try and make sense of that, he took her by the elbows and lifted her to her feet, the magic sliding up to cradle her back so it didn't hurt.

"Wait here," he told her, and disappeared through the door that she'd escaped through minutes before. Was he going to talk to Rasson? Well no way in hell was he going to do that without her there.

Sarah took a careful step forward and when the magic held she eased herself through the doorway. Her legs felt like rubber and her vision was still blurring alarmingly, but she needed to be here. It was _her_ they would be discussing, after all.

Jareth went right up to Rasson's chair. The three Fae women saw him coming and, gaping unattractively, scattered like startled butterflies. The music came to a halt as the musicians noticed him and fumbled their instruments. Everyone one on the dance floor went still.

The Goblin King faced Rasson, who started at the sight of him but held his ground admirably for finding himself so suddenly under his majesty's cool stare.

"Your Highness," Rasson greeted, giving him a bow of his head, but not, Sarah noticed, standing, as was more respectful. "I was starting to worry you weren't going to make it."

"Yes, I'm sure you were," said Jareth. His tone was mild but his eyes were fast turning to ice.

"Have you seen my newest acquisition? I'm told you two know each other." Rasson gestured over his shoulder to where Sarah had previously been standing. When he saw that she was now several feet farther away, he frowned, but Jareth could see her and apparently that was good enough for him. He smirked at the Goblin King. Sarah thought it was probably the first time Jareth had been on the receiving end of such a smug look.

"I _have_ seen her and, in fact, we _have_ met before," said the Goblin King, and Rasson's face lit up in vicious delight. But if he was expecting Jareth to make more of a scene, he was to be disappointed. Jareth merely gave him a royal tip of his head, saying, "And I'll be going now. Just wanted you to know I had stopped by."

"So soon? I hope seeing the human hasn't upset you." Despite his words, Rasson's tone said that he dearly hoped otherwise.

"Not at all. I find her enchanting myself." Sarah snorted so loud at that, she almost missed Jareth adding casually, "In fact, I'll be taking her with me."

_What did he just say? _She stared, disbelieving. Was her hearing going now too? From the stunned look on Rasson's face, he couldn't believe it either.

With a curse, he leapt from his chair, yelling, "You will do no such thing!"

Jareth raised a single eyebrow. Everyone in the room was holding their breath. No one spoke to the Goblin King that way and got away with it, besides perhaps Sarah.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't take her," said Rasson. "I brought her here. That makes her mine, by law of the Underground. Even _you_ cannot oppose it."

Sarah thought it was very brave of him, to tell the Goblin King what he could and could not do.

Jareth clearly didn't like being reminded of his limitations. His eyes narrowed in warning. "If that were the case, that would be true," he said, nodding his head the smallest bit in acknowledgment. "However, there is another important law I think you've forgotten in regards to mortal enslavement."

"That is?"

"Sarah is a Champion Runner."

Murmuring broke out as the Fae started whispering furiously to one another. For the first time, Rasson looked uneasy. "She's what?"

"A Champion Runner," Jareth repeated. "That's how we met before, didn't she tell you? Or maybe you were too busy abusing her to listen. Surely you wondered why your powers didn't work on her? She beat the Labyrinth. That gives her immunity, autonomy, so on and so forth." He waved a hand around airily. "Which means you have no right to keep her here against her will. Would you deny Sarah her rights? Rights granted to her by the Underground itself?"

He had him. The crowd knew it. Rasson knew it. The Fae's face turned a nasty shade of red, his expression murderous.

"_Fine_," he hissed after several charged moments. "_Take her_."

Jareth gave him a sardonic bow, but as he rose back up, he whispered to him, "Do not think I am done with you. We will have words about this later."

Rasson jerked his head in the semblance of a nod.

Jareth returned to Sarah. She stared up at him. His expression was completely closed off now. She couldn't tell what he was thinking at all.

"Let's go," he said.

Even with his magic helping to support her, it was an effort to turn around and walk. Still, she strode as proudly as she could from the room, trying to act like the Champion Runner he had called her and not the injured and exhausted girl she felt like. Jareth stayed just a hair's breath behind her, shielding her from all the gawking Fae and Rasson, who she knew was still glaring after them.

They'd barely made it back out into the hallway when her strength gave out. Jareth caught her as she fell and scooped her up into his arms, careful of her back and head. He unclipped the stupid collar and tossed it away. When he saw the bruises on her throat, he growled, a low and terrible sound that had Sarah instinctively curling to ward off any rage he might let out on her, but he only hugged her tighter against him and continued on down the hall.

Sarah knew she should be worried about where he was taking her. She hadn't made any wishes, but he had still rescued her, and who knew what he would want for it in return.

"Rest now," he commanded softly, his breath warm against her temple. He held her so gently, as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him, and oh how she _wished_…

Sarah drifted off before she could complete the thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sarah's dreams were filled with song. It was a haunting melody, sweet and poignant and familiar, and it made her heart ache with the pain of a hundred unfulfilled wishes she'd never dared to utter. Which is probably why, when she finally woke up, she had tears in her eyes.

Sarah blinked as the dim light of her bedroom focused around her, rubbing at the wetness on her cheeks. Had she been crying in her sleep? She tried to remember if she'd had any bad dreams, but couldn't recall any. Odd.

Her table lamp was on, and the curtains were parted to show that it was night outside, though dawn was closing in. Vera was sprawled across the foot of her bed, out cold and snoring. That was even odder. What was going on?

Then it all came back to her: Rasson kidnapping her. Trying so hard to escape and failing. The party. Jareth, coming to her rescue and then… bringing her home? Sarah didn't remember that part, but he must have, because here she was. And he must have healed her too, because not a single part of her hurt and there were no signs that a doctor had seen to her. She reached cautiously under the back of her shirt to feel where the pieces of mirror had been embedded, but the skin there was smooth, not so much as the bump of a scar tissue remained.

_And not a Goblin King in sight,_ she thought as she gave another visual sweep of the room. Healed, returned home, and left in peace—she couldn't have wished for a more perfect outcome.

So why did she feel… disappointed?

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, jostling her friend, who was lying across her very numb legs. Vera grumbled and opened her eyes blearily. When she saw that Sarah was awake, she gasped and jolted upright.

"Sarah! Oh thank God! How are you feeling?"

She gave herself another once over just to be sure, but concluded, in the end, that she was back to perfect health. "Surprisingly good."

Vera nodded. "He said you'd be fine, but of course I had my doubts. Hard to trust a guy who can look so deadly in tights, you know? Plus, you really looked like crap before he cleaned you up."

Sarah frowned. "Are you talking about—?"

"The Goblin King," Her friend's voice went hushed at the name. "Yeah. At least, that's how he introduced himself. I wasn't about to question him."

"He showed himself to you?"

"Did he ever!" exclaimed Vera, clambering over her friend's legs to join her at the head of the bed. "Scared the crap out of me too! It was, wow, two days ago now, he just appeared in our living room—_poof!_ I was on the phone arguing with yet _another_ police officer who was trying to tell me they had no leads because you had taken off on your own, _not_ been kidnapped, which I knew damn well was not the case. Your father tried to tell them too, but—"

"My family knows I went missing?" said Sarah, alarmed.

"Well of course I had to tell them. I had no idea what had happened to you. They needed to know. Hey! Where are you going?" Vera demanded when Sarah made to get out of bed.

"I need to call them and tell them I'm okay!"

Vera grabbed her by the arm and tugged her back down, yanking the sheets back from where Sarah had flung them in her haste to get up. "Calm down. I already did that. They're on their way here as we speak."

"They are?" But of course they would want to come and see that she was okay with their own eyes. They might not be the closest family ever, but they still cared about each other.

_And I would have lost them forever, _Sarah thought_, if not for Jareth. _She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Vera cleared her throat. "As I was saying. I was on the phone with the police, and suddenly all this glittery mist just erupts from out of nowhere, and the room gets this… I don't know, almost like an electrical charge? And my skin got all prickly—" _That would be the magic_, Sarah thought. "—and just like that, there's this guy standing in front of me, looking intimidating as all hell. And I couldn't tell the police because the phone went dead. I thought he was one of Rasson's friends or something, there to kidnap me too, but then he demanded to know where you were, so that ruled that out." Vera pretended to look faint. "I thought he was going to kill me when I told him I didn't know."

"He didn't threaten you or anything, did he?" said Sarah.

"No, but he _did_ tell me he was the Goblin King—like I should what that is. I knew he wasn't human, and that was pretty much all the information I need at that point. I told him about Rasson, and whoa boy, was his majesty all kinds of pissed off."

"You knew it was Rasson who took me?" Her friend had been pretty gaga when it came to the Fae. Sarah hadn't been sure what Vera would think to find her suddenly missing like that, if she would make the connection or not.

"It took a little while," Vera admitted. "But the longer I thought about it, the weirder it seemed. I am not _that_ big a ho, thank you very much! But I couldn't keep myself from acting like the most desperate kind of slut, and then I remembered some of the other women acting weird, and how freaked out _you_ were, and it was the only thing that made sense. Well, not _sense_, it seemed completely crazy, but I knew I was right. Not that I could tell the police any of that! So instead I just told them that we'd been harassed by a guy who called himself Rasson, and that you disappeared right after that and wasn't that a bit too coincidental? I don't think they were impressed with my leap of logic, though, especially after I let it slip that you vanished twenty minutes after leaving the coffee shop, with no sign of Rasson following us. They said it wasn't possible that he could have gotten to our apartment ahead of us, and what could I say to that?"

"Nothing," said Sarah, feeling for her friend who must have been so confused and upset. But Vera had done very well, considering. Sarah was proud of her. "But you told Jar—I mean, the Goblin King, everything though, didn't you?"

Vera nodded. "I did. I mean, he was clearly rockin' the same… _whatever_ you want to call it that Rasson was, and he seemed genuinely worried about you. _Pissed_, but also worried."

Sarah went a little breathless hearing that. Vera was exaggerating. She had to be.

"At that point I figured it couldn't hurt to tell him and see if he could do something, because it was clear the police weren't going to. I didn't even have to say much. The second I mentioned Rasson's name, it's like he knew."

Of course he did, because he and Rasson had some weird power tug-of-war going on, and they had decided for some reason to use Sarah as the rope.

"Anyway, he disappeared, and then a few hours ago he popped up again, and he had you with him. God, Sarah, I thought you were dead at first, you were so white and limp."

Sarah wrapped an arm around her friend. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's not _your_ fault!" said Vera vehemently. "What did the Goblin King do to you anyway? How'd he fix you so fast?"

"Didn't you see?" said Sarah.

Her friend shook her head. "His majesty whisked you away to your room the second he got here and wouldn't let me come in until he was finished cleaning you up. I could hear the guy humming under his breath through the door the entire time. It was a pretty tune, but _weird_."

Sarah thought of her dream, forgotten until now, and a little of the ache in her heart came back. Until she noticed she was dressed in her old pajamas.

"_Please_ tell me you're the one that changed me out of that dress."

When her friend only gave her an apologetic smile, Sarah groaned. So not only had Jareth seen her at her worst, he'd also seen her almost naked. Great.

"He left right after that," Vera continued. "Said you'd be fine and that he had 'things to look into', then poofed away." She gave Sarah a fierce look. "Tell me he at least beat that son of a bitch Rasson into a bloody pulp. I didn't get the chance to ask."

"Unfortunately, no."

"Too bad. I wonder why he didn't."

Sarah didn't know either.

"So?"

She blinked. "So what?"

Vera rolled her eyes. "You're going to explain what the hell all this was about, aren't you? I _know_ you know something. You're way too matter of fact about this. Is this what you're whole 'trauma' thing was about?"

Sarah scowled at her friend's use of air-quotes, but said, "Yes, it has a lot to do it that."

"So spill."

"Right now?"

Vera pointed a finger at her. "Look, I had put up with a lot of crazy shit this past week with _zero_ explanations from anyone, not to mention the stress of worrying about what happened to my best friend. Do you know how hard it was to call your family and tell them you were gone? Toby answered the phone and it about killed me to ask him to put his dad on, knowing the kind of horrible news I had to tell him. You _owe_ me answers, girl."

Sarah flinched. If anyone deserved the truth, it was definitely Vera. She had handled herself wonderfully for the circumstances, and proven by her discretion with the police that she could be counted on to keep the things that needed to stay secret, secret.

So Sarah told her everything, starting from wishing her brother away and ending with passing out in Jareth's arms. Her friend's eyes grew bigger and bigger as she went along, her mouth going from slightly parted to fully open and gaping by the end.

"Holy crap," she said when Sarah had finished. "No wonder you're so screwed up. I would need some serious therapy too if all that happened to me."

"Therapy is expensive," Sarah pointed out, only half-joking. "Not to mention that no therapist would believe me. They'd probably think I had the most bizarre case of schizophrenia ever."

"True." Vera had fetched a bottle of wine and cookies halfway through the story. Now she nibbled thoughtfully on an Oreo while Sarah finished off her third glass of Merlot. "So what are you going to do about all this?"

Sarah set her wineglass on her nightstand and slouched back against her pillows. "I have no idea." She glanced sideways at her friend. "You're accepting all this very easily."

"Well when the truth leaves glitter all over the carpet, the only thing you can do is get out the vacuum and clean it up."

"That is the worst analogy ever."

Vera pretended to look offended. "Who said it was a analogy? Glitter is messy! Tell your Goblin King to make his dramatic entrance through front door next time."

"I'll try to remember to the next time I see him. _If_ I see him," she amended.

"You don't think he'll come back again?"

Sarah shrugged. It was impossible to say what Jareth would do. She was still recovering from finding out that he'd apparently been worried about her.

"First things first though." She grimaced. "I've got parents to reassure."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, squished between her father and stepmother on her tiny couch, Sarah gave her statement to the police about what had happened to her. Yes, the man named Rasson was responsible. No, he hadn't hurt her, only tied her up in a place she couldn't remember. She'd been too scared to make note of it, and too focused on getting away when a loosened knot gave her the opportunity to escape. They said they would keep trying to find him, and that she should keep an eye out, just in case, but Sarah knew they would never catch him.<p>

And as far as keeping an eye out went, she didn't need the warning. She was jumpier than ever knowing Rasson could pop in and snatch her at any moment. Or Vera, or Toby, who had come to see her too. For that reason alone, she was glad when her family finally left a week later. She didn't need anyone else put in danger because of her. Especially her little brother. Not again.

Being alternately grilled about what had happened to her and smothered with affection was wearying too.

As for Jareth, she saw no sign. She told herself that was fine—great even—but every day that passed in which he didn't show had her feeling just that much more irritated and stressed. When she tried to subtly ask Hoggle about the Goblin King's whereabouts—after assuring the dwarf that she was fine—Hoggle only shrugged, saying, "He ain't been around since he left to go find you. The Labyrinth's better off without him anyway. He can stay gone forever for all I care."

She had just started to think that he really wasn't going to come back when she came home from an interview one afternoon and found him stretched out on her bed, back against the headboard with his long legs stretched out in front of him, clad in another pair of those damnable tights. His fingers were laced and resting on his abdomen amid the ruffles of his shirt. His jacket today was black, with lots of buckles and needlessly jagged edges of leather that swooped up into a high collar that framed his face to perfection. Her heart gave a flutter at the sight, and Sarah mentally berated herself for it.

"How are you, Sarah?" he asked when she continued to do nothing but stand there and stare at him. "Feeling better, I hope."

"Much," she said, unable, for the moment, to say anything more complex than that. His magic swirled around her, inquisitive, and she felt it more strongly at all the places where she had been hurt.

Jareth nodded and rose off the bed.

"Where have you been?" she blurted. "It's been a week. And Hoggle says you haven't been back to the Labyrinth since…" Her words died at the look he shot her.

"Worried about me, Sarah? Dare I take this to mean you're glad I came?"

"Depends. Are you here to collect?"

Two perfectly shaped blonde eyebrows rose. "Collect?"

"For helping me the other night." An understatement. He had single-handedly saved her from what would have been a hellish existence, but no way was she going to say so. "I know you want something for it."

The Goblin King looked truly perplexed now, and a bit annoyed. "You already made it clear that you wouldn't give me anything for that."

She had, hadn't she? And she hadn't made a wish, so she was under no obligation to give him anything even if he did ask for it. "That's… true," she admitted. "But…" But still, it made her uncomfortable just thinking about it. It had all week. Why was that?

Jareth suddenly smirked. "Perhaps it's that you feel indebted to me for aiding you? Maybe you need to grant me a boon so we are once again even?"

"We were never _even_," snapped Sarah, "But as for the rest of it… you might be right." And boy, did that grate to admit. By the flash of the Goblin King's canines, he knew it, and was enjoying it immensely.

"Fine! Owing you bothers me," she admitted. "So ask me for something—reasonable!—and that'll put us back, uh, as we were."

Jareth thought about it. "Hmm. I quite like how we are right now, though. Having you beholden to me for once feel's very nice. And I do love watching you squirm."

"_Who's_ squirming?" she hissed, even though on the inside she was a veritable mess of nerves. Jareth pretended not to hear her.

"But putting off such an opportunity… No, I can't do that. It's too good."

Sarah made a noise of frustration. "So then make your request already!"

"Do not rush me. Who knows when this chance will come again?"

_Never, if I have anything to say about it_, she thought as she watched the Goblin King ponder his options. Good God, but the tension was horrible, and Sarah had no doubt that he was drawing the moment out on purpose just to torment her. She couldn't help but come up with her own possibilities for things he might ask for. Some of the ideas that came to mind terrified her, and others not as much as they should have. She comforted herself that whatever he ended up asking for, she didn't _have_ to give to him if she didn't want to. She could say no, make him keep picking until he came up with something she _could_ agree to.

_And then we'll be back to how we were before and everything will be fine again_.

It didn't feel half as reassuring as she'd meant it to.

"All right, I have it," he said at last.

"Finally! What is it?"

Jareth looked at her, and she didn't like how his eyes flashed with challenge. "How about you give me… an apology."

Now _that_ she hadn't expected. Out of all the things he might have asked for.

"An apology?" she repeated. "For what?"

"For throwing my offer back in my face, for starters."

Sarah knew instantly what he was referring to. That final offer of his had haunted more than it's fair share of her dreams.

"You only made that offer out of desperation," she told him indignantly. "You have no right to be angry just because I saw through your dirty trick."

"Do you still believe that, Sarah? That it was only a trick?"

"Of course." But there on his face was that flash of hurt again, and suddenly she wasn't quite as sure…

"Besides, even if you were being… sincere. I had to think about Toby. I couldn't just accept your offer and leave him."

Jareth hissed and his magic surged up around her. It startled Sarah enough that she stumbled back.

"Foolish girl, I offered you your dreams! Why would the health and safety of your precious baby brother not be included in that?"

Sarah blinked. "I… I never thought about it that way before."

The Goblin King sneered at her. "Of course you didn't. You never thought _anything_ through when you were in my Labyrinth. You were too busy keeping up all that empty bravado of yours, too busy playing the part of the fearless heroine to wonder what might happen if you dared to go off script. If you had stopped and thought about it for a minute, instead of thoughtlessly, heartlessly, plowing through—"

_Heartlessly_. It hurt to hear that. Sarah had been so sure it had been a trap. She'd taken such pride in not falling for it, for beating him. _He_ was supposed to be the heartless one, and yet it was clear from the angry pain in his eyes that this wasn't the case at all.

She had misjudged him, Sarah realized. How much, she wasn't sure, but enough to prick at her conscience and make her wonder.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. Jareth snorted. "No, I mean it. If what you're saying is true then I… I shouldn't have rejected you like I did."

He shot her a look. "You shouldn't have rejected me at all, precious. I would have been perfect for you."

And quick as that, her irritation returned. "Well _that's _a little presumptuous."

"No, it's simple fact. Still, I guess everyone must live with at least one big regret in their life." Before she could ask what _his_ big regret was, he continued. "However, if you really do want to make amends, then you will allow me something."

Warning bells went off. Were they back to this again? "What am I allowing, exactly?"

Jareth gestured to his feet, behind which three little goblins suddenly hid. She hadn't noticed them before now and suspected it was because they hadn't been there.

"You will allow these three to remain with you," he said.

"Why?"

"In case Rasson decides to try to take you again. You asked me where I've been—I've been looking for him. But he's gone to ground, as it were. Impossible to find him now."

Well that was less than comforting. "So the goblins are for…?"

Jareth waved an impatient hand. "Short of keeping you at Goblin City, nowhere is safe for you. And since I know what you're opinion is on _that_ idea, we're going with the next best thing."

Sarah looked doubtfully at the creatures, which seemed oddly shy for their species. "What are they gonna do? Don't tell me they're supposed to be bodyguards?"

"Hardly. More like ugly security alarms. They'll follow you, staying _out of sight_—" Here he glared down at them, making them shrink back, "—and if Rasson makes an appearance, they will immediately come back and tell me."

"Can't you just leave me, like, a phone number or something I can call you at? A crystal walkie-talkie that I can radio into if he shows up and I decide I need you?"

"Oh, you'll need me, precious. But you're assuming he'll give you the time to contact me. I'm sure his kidnapping was quite abrupt, yes?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

"It will be the same the next time. Only instead of kidnapping you, he might just kill you instead."

Sarah scowled. "You're just trying to scare me into coming back with you!"

In a blink, Jareth was looming over her, so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. "No. I'm trying to break through that stubborn independence of yours. It's okay to need others sometimes, Sarah."

"Like you ever need anyone."

For a moment, she thought he was going to confess to her all over again, and Sarah wondered if she had said it as a subconscious set-up on her part. Then a wicked glint appeared in Jareth's eye. "I am frequently in need of many," he said. "Often at the same time, and specifically of the female variety."

Sarah blanched. "You're disgusting." But she was secretly disgusted with herself too for not seeing such a response coming.

"You asked for it, precious," Jareth replied, his knowing gaze telling her that he was aware of what she'd been trying to get him to admit to. "Cruel as ever," he whispered. "You want the leaves to fall from the trees just so you can hear them crunch beneath your feet."

That actually cut at her. She was not cruel!

"You can get out," she said, stepping back from him, but Jareth grabbed her by the chin to still her. She tried to jerk away, but though his grip wasn't painful, it was definitely unbreakable. Those mismatched eyes burned into her own. "Not until you agree the goblins can stay."

"I'll invite every goblin in Goblin City over to stay if it will make you leave!" she spat at him.

He released her and stepped back. With a mocking bow, he vanished, saying, "Until next time, precious."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I'm back finally! Yay! And I... really have nothing else of import to say besides that, lol. I'm just happy to have an update for you guys. Hope you like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always. Enjoy :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"So… tell me again why you're upset?" said Vera.

Sarah paced the living room furiously. Though sharing rent meant that they had managed to get a decently sized place, there still wasn't enough room for her to properly stomp off her frustrations, and she had a lot to stomp off. Jareth had been gone for several hours now, but still she could not get rid of the agitation their conversation had caused her.

Vera watched from her place the couch, where she'd been ever since coming home from work and finding Sarah in such a state. One of Sarah's newly acquired goblins was in her lap, sucking on one pointy-toed foot. The other two were snuggled on either side of her. She had taken an immediate and inexplicable liking to the little creatures, exclaiming that they were, "Disgustingly adorable." The goblins, for their part, seemed just as enamored with her. The "disgusting" part aside, they probably weren't complimented very often. Or ever.

At her friend's cautious inquiry, Sarah threw up her hands. "I told you. It's—"

"The Goblin King. Yeah, I got that part from all the angry mumbling you've been doing. What _about_ him?"

"He's just… he's such a…" Sarah struggled to think of the right word to describe him, but there weren't any to satisfying enough, so she settled with, "He's an arrogant ass, that's what he is."

"Well, the man has issues, there's no denying that," agreed Vera. "But I thought you two were… I don't know… on the ups."

"Throwing all his lovers in my face," Sarah muttered, unhearing. She reached the living room wall and whirled back. "As if I care who he's sleeping with, or how many! Because I don't, you know. I don't care at all. _At_. _All_."

Vera's eyebrows shot up. "How did _that_ come up in the conversation?"

"You know he had the nerve to call rejecting him my biggest regret in life? Ha! I'll decide what I do and do not regret, thank you very much! And rejecting him? Smartest decision I ever made!"

"I'm sure it was."

"And I am not cruel! I _always_ give money to the bell ringers at Christmas time. And remember when that little boy got lost at the fair last year? I took him to the ticket booth and waited with him the whole time while they looked for his parents. And I didn't even get mad when he threw up cotton candy all over my shoes."

"To be fair, they _were_ your oldest pair of sneakers," said Vera. "You'd been grumbling about needing to throw them out anyway."

"The point still stands!"

Her friend sighed. It was a sound of pure exasperation and very little patience. Sarah caught it and stuttered to a halt, thinking for one wild moment that her stepmother had appeared in the room. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You think I'm making all of this up?"

Vera shook her head emphatically. "No, of course not. It's just… I don't know. Snide comments aside, the guy _did_ save your life, Sarah. _And_ took you home and healed you. _And_ came back to check on you. _And_ left you with back-up in case something else happens."

Well, she couldn't argue with that. "That's… true," conceded Sarah. "But still! It doesn't change all the horrible things he said to me!"

Vera held up her hands in a pacifying gesture. "I'm not saying he should win man of the year or anything, but… a little gratitude… might not be uncalled for here."

"_Gratitude_?" She nearly choked on the word.

"Leniency, then," Vera rephrased quickly. "Actions speak louder than words, isn't that what they say? And despite his less than, um, _gentlemanly_ comments, the Goblin King has done some pretty awesome things for you recently."

Sarah couldn't argue with that either. Much as she wanted to.

"Did you even thank him for it?" Vera asked quietly.

"Um, well…" Sarah tried to recall if the words "Thank you," had ever come up inbetween all of their arguing, but couldn't. Vera tsked her, looking pained.

"Well it's hard to remember manners when you're pissed off!" she defended. Her friend hummed noncommittally. Sarah didn't like being made to feel like the bad guy. _Again_. Especially not by the person who should have been her ally.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling exposed even though it was just the two of them, goblins excluded.

"He gets to me," she whispered, looking away. "It's like, he knows what will hurt the most and so he exploits it for all it's worth, just to upset me. Just to hurt me."

Vera's expression turned sympathetic. "You know, people only usually do that when they're feeling defensive or insecure themselves."

"He isn't _people_, though. He's an immature, sadistic, Goblin King!"

"Who saved your life."

Sarah looked over at her balefully. "Do you have to keep pointing that out?"

"You seemed to need another reminder."

"Well, I didn't." But the anger was finally be dissipating. She came over and dropped down beside her friend, nearly squishing the goblin that was there in the process. When it growled at her, she ruffled the tiny patch of hair on its boney head in apology. It made a noise that sounded like rocks grinding together, a messed up mutation of a cat's purr.

"Do you really believe he was just being defensive and insecure?" she asked finally.

"Hard to say," said Vera. "You know him better than I do."

But as Sarah had just found out from her conversation with him, she hardly knew the arrogant Fae at all. And the things she'd _thought_ she knew had been wrong.

When she told Vera this, her friend replied, softly, "Then is it such a stretch to think that you might be wrong about him _this_ time?"

Sarah didn't respond because she had no answer to that. She slouched down in her seat, grabbing one of the goblins and hugging it to her chest. It screeched and squirmed, trying to break free, but then she petted it and it went limp and made that grating purr sound again. It was comforting in a disturbing kind of way. Vera was right, they were disgustingly adorable.

Vera threw her arm around Sarah's shoulders, giving her a hug as best she could with all the goblins in the way. "Well, I say to give him the benefit of the doubt and let it go for now," she said. "At least until this thing with Rasson is over with, it's a safe bet that you're going to have to deal with His Glittery Highness on a fairly regularly basis. No reason to make it more awkward and difficult than it has to be."

Sarah nodded. "You're right." She gave the goblin an unconscious squeeze and it burped. "I hate it when you're right."

Vera grinned. She scooped up the remaining goblin—who was looking very put out that it wasn't being cuddled too—and pulled it onto her lap along with the first. "Now, onto a more fun topic. What should we name these guys?"

"We could name them all Jareth, since they look so much like him," Sarah suggested, still a little bit grumpy.

Vera snorted. "Denial only goes so far, honey. And the one thing the Goblin King is _not_, is ugly."

And though Sarah refused to admit it aloud, her friend was right about that too.

* * *

><p>A week later, Sarah stood in the middle of her bedroom, a paper bag clenched tight in her fist, the trio of goblins at her feet, and spoke the words she thought she'd never say aloud:<p>

"I wish the goblins would take me to see the Goblin King, right now."

Immediately the room tilted and blurred. The goblins screeched and yipped and she felt little fingers tug on her hands, the hem of her jeans, the sleeves of her shirt, even her hair got a good, hard yank. And then blackness swamped her and she was falling. Her stomach flipped. Sarah opened her mouth to scream—or vomit, she wasn't sure which—but before she could do either, her shoes hit something solid and the world righted itself. The darkness retreated so fast it was there one minute, gone the next, and Sarah found herself standing outside the great front doors of the Goblin Castle.

At her side, the goblins cackled and clapped. At least _they_ were happy to be here. Sarah was feeling decidedly less cheerful. In fact, finding herself actually here, back in this place, was kicking up bad memories and doubt like sand in a sandstorm, and all she wanted to do was wish herself back home. _Right now_.

_God, why did I think this was a good idea again? _she wondered. She should have just waited until the next time Jareth came to visit her. That would've been the smart thing to do. Here she didn't even have the advantage of being on home ground. And if he decided to not let her return to her world? _Stupid, stupid!_

_You're thinking the worst of him again_, a voice in her mind whispered. _What happened to being wrong about him? What happened to giving him the benefit of the doubt?_

But it was so hard to remember that when what she really remembered was being chased by the cleaners, and being dumped into the Bog of Eternal Stench, and almost losing Toby in the Escher Room, and Jareth, pleading with her…

"_Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your _slave_."_

Behind her, she could hear the distant cacophony of the Goblin City in full weekend swing. Or maybe it was just normal swing. _Was_ it the weekend here? Did they have weekends the same way they did Aboveground? Well none of the goblins were coming after her with swords and cannons. That was pretty much all she cared about.

_You can do this, Sarah,_ she told herself. After all, if she left now then she would be letting him win, in a way. She would be backing down from the challenge of facing him; she would be admitting defeat, admitting that he intimidated her.

And Goblin City would freeze over before she allowed that.

So she stepped up and rapped smartly on the doors, waiting only moment before shoving them open. They swung inward easily, weighing only a fraction of what they had her first time coming through. Sarah refused to let herself wonder what such a change like that might signify. At her feet, the goblins fell hushed, scampering through the moment they could fit. Sarah followed after them more slowly.

Inside it was just as dirty and run down as it had been the first time, and there was a fowl smell to the air. Literally, it smelled like the inside of a chicken coop. How a Fae who prided himself on style and elegance could live in such a place, Sarah didn't know. She wasn't a clean freak by any means and this would have driven even her crazy.

The only goblins inside were her's, thankfully. They were in the far corner of the room, snickering as they rolled around in something that could only be called a nest. There were straw and feathers, and she swore one of them was even juggling an egg. Jareth was on his throne, booted ankle crossed over his knee, foot bouncing lightly with excess energy as he read from a giant book that was open on his lap. With his head lowered, his wispy bangs covered his forehead and shielded his eyes from view, but she saw his mouth moving, too quick to follow, as he silently read whatever was in the oversized tome.

At her entrance, he glanced up, and a look of pure shock crossed his face. Then he slammed the book shut with a boom and a sparkle of glitter and his expression, too, became just as closed off.

"Sarah," he greeted, his tone stiffly neutral. He tossed the book aside where it made another echoing boom as it hit the stone floor. The goblins all jumped. "What a surprise. And I do mean a surprise. I never would have thought that you would willingly come to see me. But let me guess, you're anxious for an update on Rasson. I'm sorry to say that I haven't found him yet. But you shouldn't worry, I'll find him eventually."

If it had been anyone else, Sarah would have said he was rambling. But there was nothing hurried or nervous about his speech. Probably, she thought cynically, he just liked hearing himself talk.

She came to a stop in front of his throne. She took a breath then released it. Time to get this over with.

She pointed a finger at him, and without preamble, she said, "You, Goblin King, are an arrogant ass."

Jareth's pale eyebrows shot up. His foot dropped off his knee and he leaned back in his seat. She thought maybe he would go off on her, but instead he snorted and crossed his arms, unimpressed by her declaration. "You came all the way down here just to say that? Really, Sarah, your disdain for me has been duly noted. There was no reason for you to come here just to insult me. Quite frankly, I expected something more clever from you."

"But," she continued, plowing on as if he hadn't spoken, "you also made some good points the other day, and it would be… wrong of me… not to acknowledge them. I also realized that I never thanked you properly for what you did with Rasson, and getting me out of there. You didn't have to, and I know I wasn't very grateful about it so… sorry. And thank you. _Here_." She thrust the paper bag at him.

He didn't take it.

"I think I've heard of humans doing things like this," he said, studying the bag, his tone contemplative. "But, Sarah, shouldn't you have left it outside my doors and lit it on fire? Handing it to me as-is seems—"

"It's not like that! Jeez, trust you to know all about juvenile pranks." She shook the bag at him again. "Here, take it. It's not a trick. It's not a trap. It's a…" She mumbled it.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that last part," said Jareth, putting a hand to his ear in a dramatic act of trying to hear her better. Sarah sighed.

"I said, it's a thank you present."

If possible, his eyebrows climbed even higher. "You expect me to believe you came down here to _thank_ me, after how we parted ways last?"

"I already said I was wrong about that, didn't I?" Sarah snapped, angry that he didn't believe her apology to be genuine and even angrier that he wasn't entirely wrong to be suspicious. "I brought you a gift, dammit! Can't you just accept it?"

Jareth stared at her. Sarah glared back at him. Then he blinked, and burst out into laughter. It was a deep, infectious sound that all but insisted you join in, and Sarah blushed and smiled despite herself as she realized what she'd said.

"So my delivery needs a little work." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Are you going to take this thing or not? My arm's getting tired."

His dark eyes still twinkling, Jareth reached out and plucked the paper bag from her grasp. "Since you insist, I suppose a peek at this 'present' of yours wouldn't hurt."

Some of her earlier anxiety came creeping back as he unrolled the top. Why had she felt the desire to actually _give_ him something when there was no possible way that he would like it? She should have just given her apology and left. It would have been good enough, and she could have kept her pride in the bargain.

He really did _peek_ into the bag, which would have been funny if not for the fact that it showed just how little he trusted her. As it was, it stung quite a bit.

_Well aren't we a little hypocritical, _the voice in her head whispered. It was really starting to get on her nerves, that voice.

Jareth spotted what was inside and his eyes went wide. He reached a gloved hand in and, slowly—so slowly Sarah wanted to run up and dump the paper bag over just to get it over with—he pulled out a small, clear orb.

It didn't look as impressive as his did, Sarah had to concede with embarrassment. It wasn't perfectly round, for starters. There were lumps in it and it was more of an oval shape than a circular one. And there was also dent where she hadn't removed the blow pipe properly. It hadn't looked this bad when she'd been making it. But now, seeing it in his hands…

"It's supposed to be a crystal ball," explained Sarah. "Well, it's a glass ball, actually. Blown glass. But you get the idea. My friend Vera—the girl you met at the apartment last week?—she works at this place now where you can take glass blowing lessons and, well, anyway, you're always giving people crystal balls, so I thought it might be apropos or, you know, just funny, if I could give you one for once. I know it's not very good, but it was my first try and—"

"You made this? For me?" he said, cutting off her babbling.

Sarah winced. "Um, yes?"

She waited for the smirk, the smarmy attitude telling her how inept she was, how foolish she'd been to even _try_ and make a comparison between his magical, crystal wonders and her empty glass ball.

But the mocking didn't come. The expression on his face as he turned the small, fragile object this way and that—If she hadn't known better, she would have believed he _could_ see something within it's shallow depths.

When he had looked his fill, finally lowering it to focus back on Sarah, that unnerving gaze of his shimmered and darkened.

"Thank you, Sarah," he said, cradling the bit of glass to his chest. "I will treasure it."

Sarah bobbed her head stupidly, unsticking her tongue from the roof of her suddenly very dry mouth to respond, "No problem."

The smile he gave her then! Neither a painting nor a picture nor film could have captured the power of it, the warmth that seemed to turn the very air hot, that made him glow with a joy and vitality that was so pure it made Sarah feel undeserving to be the reason for it.

Frankly, it terrified the hell out of her, which was probably why she ruined the moment utterly by blurting out, "Do you think I could visit Hoggle while I'm here?"

Just like that, the air cooled and his smile vanished. Something dark and vicious flickered in the Goblin King's eyes, killing the light that moment's earlier had been radiating within them, but then both were gone, and he was back to how he always looked. Cool, aloof, and slightly disdainful of the general world around him. This was the Jareth she knew and was comfortable with.

_Coward_, the voice hissed, but this time she didn't care. Her sense of self-preservation was too strong to ignore.

"I mean, i-it's not often I get to see him in person," stammered Sarah, plunging on, "or Ludo or Sir Didymus either for that matter. I figured, since I'm already here…"

"Of course you may visit them," said Jareth, relaxing back into his throne. That he allowed it so easily was odd to her, but at this point Sarah just wanted to get out of there before another mood she couldn't handle decided to overtake him.

Holding up the glass ball, Jareth began to play with his new gift, rolling it over his knuckles and then flipping it up into the air, catching it with just the tips of his fingers when it fell. He wasn't even looking at her anymore, as if she held no more interest for him. With his free hand he gestured to the goblins, two of which were licking what looked like yolk from off the third's head. "Take the goblins. They will get you where you want to go and keep you away from the more dangerous areas."

"Thank you," said Sarah. Hastily, she collected her little charges and shooed them towards the entrance. Jareth looked up just as she turned back to push the doors shut. Their eyes met, and a smaller, darker smile crossed his face, one that made her heart flip and race.

"No, Sarah," he whispered. "Thank _you_."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It was late the next day when Sarah heard the front door of the apartment slam and then footsteps pound down the short entry hall, coming her way.

Snapping shut the book she was reading, she hastily shoved it between the couch cushions and affected a look of boredom just as Vera appeared in the living room, positively beaming.

"Sarah!"

Sarah frowned at the state of her. Vera's capri's were wrinkled beyond salvaging and so was her blouse. Her hair had come out of its bun and hung lopsided on the side of her side. Her low-heeled shoes were irreparably scuffed. The sight of her there, whole and well, both relieved and exasperated Sarah.

"Where have you been all night?" she demanded. "I was starting to worry about you. I tried to call but your phone was off. I thought maybe Rasson had gotten to you. I was _this close_ to getting Jareth to come."

Vera had the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry, Sarah. My cell died and I just didn't think... But, Sarah, I had the most fantastic night! I met the most _amazing_ guy!" She grabbed Sarah by the arms and gave her a shake to punctuate the statement, loosening a grudging smile from her roommate. Who could stay mad when faced with so much enthusiasm?

"As long are you're okay…" said Sarah, and Vera nodded happily.

"I am. I'm fine. I'm great!" And unable to wait for the standard questioning to start, she supplied, "His name is John Smith."

"John Smith? Seriously?"

"I know, I know, I said the same thing. But he has the _best_ sense of humor about it. Really, he just has the best sense of humor, period!"

"And you stayed out with him all night? On a first date?" Sarah gave her a look of mock reproach. Vera laughed and slapped her shoulder.

"It wasn't like that! I met him at our coffee shop after I got off work—you know how I like to stop there on my way home sometimes—and we just stayed there talking until it closed, and then we took a walk through the park and we just have so much in common and—Sarah, look what he gave me!"

She tugged down the collar of her shirt to reveal a small cameo pendant on a black lace choker. The image was one of a woman dressed in period clothing, posed in mid-swoon. Hand to her forehead, head tipped back. Instead of being pure white like cameos usually were, this one had a pinkish tinge to it, like it had been carved from the inside of a seashell. It gave the woman's face a flushed appearance, which only added to the affect of her weakened state.

"Wow," said Sarah, taken aback. "That looks… really old. He just gave it to you?"

"Don't worry, it's not real," Vera reassured her. "I wouldn't have accepted it if it was. It's just some costume jewelry he got from an old production he worked on. Remember that theater I was telling you about? He's an assistant prop director there." She gave the cameo a loving pat. "His boss was making him throw out a bunch of old stuff. That's were he was going when I met him. He had a whole case full of things like this. Anyway, he thought I might like it."

"Well, he sounds like a… great guy," said Sarah, a little speechless by her friend's exuberance.

Vera pulled out the twisty that held up what remained of her bun and worked a hand through her tangled strands of hair, massaging her scalp with an appreciative groan. "_Sooo_?" she asked, dragging out the word with a sly smile.

Sarah eyed her warily. "So, what?"

"How'd it go with His Highness? You two make up okay? I assume so if you were going to go to him for help."

Sarah almost pulled out her book again just so she'd have something to hide her face behind. "Yeah. Yeah, um… we made up okay."

"Good!" Vera flicked her twisty at the heap of goblins sprawled on the floor in front of the television, napping. It landed on the potbelly of the middle one, who woke with a snort and raised its head to look blearily at the stretchy piece of fabric. It picked it up, and, after a half-hearted sniff, ate it and went back to sleep.

The two girls looked at each other. Sarah shrugged. "Probably should've expected that."

"You're right." Vera sighed, but immediately perked back up as she said, "Well, I have to go freshen up. I promise to meet John in an hour!"

She headed off towards her bedroom. Sarah clambered farther up on the couch. "Hold on—You're going back out again? You've been up all night! Aren't you tired?"

"Surprisingly, no." Vera turned back to her friend a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "I'm too excited to be tired. John wants to take me out to dinner. Oh! We should double date sometime! You, me, John and the Goblin King. It'll be fun!"

Sarah grimaced. "I said we made _up_, not made _out_."

Vera came back over to the couch. She leaned over Sarah and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "They say the one always leads to the other."

This was the only problem with Vera getting a guy, and it happened every time. As soon as she got involved with someone, she became convinced that it was perfect and wonderful and the solution to everything, and that everyone else needed a partner too. Sarah always tried her hardest to stay out of Vera's path during the first few weeks she started dating someone, to avoid this very thing. Congratulate her and then get out of her way—that was Sarah's strategy. Get out before Vera could latch on and try to drag you down the road of blissful romance with her.

"Not this time," said Sarah. "Did you forget what I told you yesterday? The man is an arrogant ass."

"But didn't you also admit that he had his good points, and that you should be making nice with him?"

"Your definition of 'making nice' is not the same as mine, clearly."

"Isn't it?" Vera reached down, and before Sarah could figure out what she was doing, had pulled her book out from between the couch cushions. She held it up, hand on hip with her eyebrow cocked, her grin turning smug. Sarah's face turned the same shade of red as the book cover. She snatched it away from her.

"I was feeling nostalgic, so shoot me. It doesn't mean anything."

"Uh huh," said Vera. Her expression turned serious. "You know what's better than even gratitude or leniency when it comes to making up with someone, Sarah?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Honesty. Particularly—" She tapped the worn cover, just above where glossy gold letters read, _The Labyrinth_, "—being honest with yourself."

"Well aren't you just full of wisdom today."

Vera shook a finger at her. "Snarkiness will not save you from the truth."

"Will it at least save me from more of your relationship advice?"

Her friend gave a dramatic sigh and headed back to her bedroom. "I can see my skills are wasted here."

"Your meddling, you mean," Sarah grumbled, and Vera winked at her before disappearing into the other room.

Two hours later, Vera was gone and Sarah found herself alone once again in the apartment. Unfortunately, she had nothing to do today and nowhere to go. She called home, deciding to spend some time catching up with Toby, but he had friends over and they were playing video games. Though he was polite enough not to hang up on her, the constant exclamations of, "Aw, man, watch where you're shooting!" and, "Kill it! Kill it!" grew annoying fast, and she eventually gave up.

She rifled through her book some more, but catching Vera smirking every time she'd picked it up had killed her desire to read it.

_I could just _go_ to the Labyrinth_. V_isit Hoggle and the others again_…

Sure, she had just seen them yesterday, but they wouldn't mind. And once Rasson was captured, Jareth might not be so keen on her visiting anymore. She shouldn't waste the opportunity while she had it, should she? No, of course not. And if she saw the Goblin King while she was there… well, that wouldn't be the worst thing, she supposed. They had made peace, after all. Sorta. And if she was going to be _honest_… maybe she wanted to see him again. Just a little. Not that it would break her heart if she _didn't_ see him…

Sarah sighed. One thing she could be honest about—she was an absolute mess.

_Going to the Underground won't help that_, she thought, but still she found herself grabbing her shoes and jacket and rousing the goblins from their dreams.

One nausea-inducing trip later, she stood in the Underground, this time in the middle of the hedge maze. Just like last time, the goblins took off the second they got their bearings. Sarah started to let them go until she realized that if she lost them, she could be stuck in this maze with no way out for quite a while.

"Hey! Come back!" she called, but the only things that returned were their snorting giggles.

Sarah hurried after them. Unfortunately for her, the goblins weren't confined to traverse the maze properly like she was. They were so small they slipped through the branches of the hedges easily, with only the rustle of leaves and smothered snickers to give away the general direction they were headed in. Above the day was cloudless, the sun huge in a sky that was an unnaturally pale shade of blue. It was cooler than it was yesterday, and Sarah was glad she had brought her jacket.

She chased after them what felt like hours, but was probably only a few frustrating minutes. Eventually a new sound arose to drown out the noise of her goblins' chattering. It was still the unmistakable cacophony of goblins, but these sounded like they were, of all things, _singing_.

Sarah turned a corner and stopped. She had a reached a courtyard of sorts. Bushes framed a wide, cobbled area complete with stone benches and a fountain the looked like it had been broken for several months at least. No water flowed from it and what remained at the bottom was stagnant and green. The statue on top was that of a unicorn reared back on its hind legs. There were cracks spider-webbed across its flanks and down its long neck, and the tip of its horn was missing.

That was all she managed to take note of, because then she spotted the goblins, and she didn't dare take her eyes away.

They filled the far side of the courtyard, mashed together as they sang and danced and jumped and clapped, and in the middle of them all was Jareth, dressed all in black leather, singing along—no, _leading_ them in the song. He would sing a verse and then they would copy. Sometimes one would get it wrong and the others would laugh and jeer, but then they'd sing the verse again, the _wrong_ way, and the song would go on from there.

The sight of so many goblins, with their clawing hands and screeching voices, running wild around the courtyard, had Sarah's heart rate tripling and she stumbled back, prepared to flee. It was too much like the time she had fought off the goblin army. The smoke and swords and cannonballs; the axes, and lances and deadly sharp spears. She was okay with the three little goblins Jareth had given her. They were tiny and quiet and acted more like lazy cats than anything else. They might have their mischievous moments—like running away today—but they lacked that cruel teasing and manic (sometimes sadistic) troublemaking that the others of their kind seemed to take fun in, like the ones before her now. Sure, they were only singing, but when the lyrics included—

"_Rip the wings right off a pixie, replace them with a bat's to fixey!"_

Well.

She started to back away slowly. She was mostly hidden by the bushes and could still slip away unseen if she was careful about it. She would just have to find the way out of the hedge maze on her own. Her goblin deserters she'd deal with later.

One of the little cretins in the courtyard had climbed up onto the unicorn's back. The angle made the slope steep, and as it was reaching for the equine's mane it lost its footing and fell right into the nasty water. Water that, even from where Sarah was standing, smelled as foul as the Bog of Eternal Stench. The goblins all saw and stopped their singing to laugh. Jareth did too, throwing back his head and roaring.

The sound froze Sarah in her tracks. She had never heard him laugh like that before. It was a hard, almost violent thing that boomed from deep inside his chest, knocking Sarah's poor heart completely off rhythm. Even his laugh was boastful, somehow, the sound a declaration that no one could possibly be more amused than he was. His magic lifted and shimmered, buoyant in his jubilance, so light Sarah hadn't even noticed it flowing around her until that moment.

The goblin jumped out of the fountain, screeching and dripping wet, and Jareth punted it. It soared through the air with a high-pitched "_Wheee!_" and the others cheered as it crashed into a hedge and stuck there. Jareth laughed again and returned to singing. The rest quickly joined back in.

"_Which way, which way, to get away? The day grows late and I dare not stay. Don't ask the dwarves, don't ask the doors, Don't ask the Sphinx, she only roars!"_

Something bumped into the back of Sarah's legs, knocking her forward a few feet. When she caught herself and looked behind her, she saw her flighty trio there, grinning at her in a way that made her uneasy about them for the first time. Their eyes were shining and they were darting glances at the craziness going on in the courtyard. Was mob mentality getting to them or something, she wondered?

The biggest one suddenly puffed out his potbelly, lowered his knobby, bald head, and charged her like a tiny, ugly bull, hitting Sarah in the shin and forcing her out from behind her hiding place.

"What are you doing? Knock it off!" she hissed. The second one charged her then, and then the third, forcing her back and back and back. She was so busy trying to fend off their attacks that she didn't notice how far she was moving into the courtyard until she was almost right on top of the mad singing party. By the time she looked up and realized it, it was too late. She'd been spotted.

Still singing, the goblins swarmed her. They stepped on her feet, jumped impossibly high into the air so they were right in her face, and grabbed any and every inch of her they could reach.

One landed on her shoulder, tiny hands clawing at her hair, and Sarah screamed and smacked it off. It disappeared back into the throng, cackling.

"Let go! Get off of me!" she cried. She tried to back up and tripped over a goblin's tail. The creature gave a gurgling yelp and scurried out of the way. Panic threatened to overwhelm Sarah. She had to get out of here. Had to escape—

Gloved hands caught her by the shoulders and tugged her back against a familiar, leather-clad chest. Immediately the goblins retreated. They didn't cease their antics or their singing, but they were no longer grabbing at her, trying to climb her or pull her down.

Breathing hard, she forced herself to still and looked up into the amused face of the Goblin King.

"So nice to see you again, Sarah," he said. "And so soon. Are you all right? You appear a bit… flushed."

She jerked away from him. The second there was space between them, the goblins were on her again. Sarah shrieked and slammed herself back against Jareth. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

"It's best to stay close to me, precious," he whispered in her ear. "I can't guarantee your safety otherwise."

He was making fun of her. She could hear it in his voice. But she couldn't make herself move away. Between what she knew was irrational fear and irrational desire—she was stuck.

"Call them off," she said.

"Call them off? But, Sarah, they're only having a bit of fun. You should join us. You like to sing, don't you?"

"Sing! Sing!" the goblins cheered, and she saw _her_ goblins cheering too, near the back.

Little traitors.

"I don't sing," she said.

"Then shall we teach you?" asked Jareth.

As if on cue, the goblins broke back into song, this one about _"—a Fae named Bob./ Whose life was hell after a trip to the Bog."_

After the first verse, they paused and waited for her to repeat it like Jareth had with them. They stayed that way, nearly fifty of them, utterly silent and completely still. After a moment, Sarah repeated the words grudgingly, anything to make them stop staring at her. They whooped and sang another verse, and again paused when they reached the end. Sarah huffed and repeated that one too.

"Why, Sarah, you're a natural," Jareth teased as the goblins went on to verse three. (How many verses were there anyway? And what kind of chorus was comprised solely of repeating, _"Stinky, stinky, stinky, stinky!" _over and over again?) Sarah couldn't even turn around to glare at him because his arms were still tight across her shoulders, preventing her from moving back, and his lips still hovered far too close to her ear for comfort. She could feel his every exhalation against her cheek. If she turned her head…

After singing back the seventh verse (which ending with, _"Bob the Fae stunk for another day."_), the goblins started to dance again. It was more a mess of jumping and tumbling over one another than actual dancing, but they seemed to be having fun doing it. Sarah, who was gamely singing along by this point, sucked in a breath as she felt Jareth start to move behind her, a sort of easy sway that shouldn't have made her cheeks heat—but did.

"Don't forget, you need to dance too, precious," he murmured, and taking her by the hand, he twirled her out into the crowd of goblins, scattered them like startled chickens. The singing continued, but Sarah was too busy trying to keep her feet to focus on the words. Jareth pulled her back in only to catch her by the waist and whirl her around again. Not once did he let go of her hand.

It was nothing like the last time she'd danced with him. This wasn't a carefully orchestrated waltz he was leading her through. Here the steps were wherever they happened to place their feet, sidestepping goblins and cracks in the cobbles every other turn. Jareth's smile was luminous on his face, his oddly pointed canines winking at her from his parted lips, and Sarah felt herself smiling back in return as the moment overtook her and she lost herself within the joy of it.

In all the dreams she'd had of her and the Goblin King over the years—and she shamefully admitted she'd had quite a few—she'd never dreamed of having _fun_ with him like this, _laughing_ with him like this. Not having to second-guess things, not having to worry about his intentions. Just being able to enjoy his presence, a presence that was for once absent of all cynicism and condescension. She forgot about the goblins, forgot about the wisdom of keeping her distance, and for once let herself enjoy what felt like an impossible daydream come true.

It wasn't until her legs turned to rubber and her breath refused to return to her that she finally—regretfully—said she could dance no more.

Jareth slowed immediately, though he didn't release her, and glared at the goblins who were pouting vociferously.

"_Well?_" he said." You heard her. Get lost!"

Their grumbles as they moved away broke whatever spell had fallen over Sarah, and she tried to disengage herself from Jareth's hold without him noticing. He did, of course, and though he let his arm fall from around her waist, he did not release her hand.

"I… I should really be going now," she said, avoiding his eyes as she tried to tug herself free. The lines from the earlier song came back to her: _Which way, which way, to get away?_ "Thank you for the dance. It was… nice. But it's getting late, and I came here to see Hoggle…"

"You're here for the dwarf again? Why am I not surprised?" Still, he did not let go. She tugged harder.

"Is spending time with me really so horrible, Sarah?" he asked. "You were having fun a few minutes ago."

"That's because you were being nice, for once."

"I can be nice, Sarah."

Her response to that just popped out. "You can also be cruel."

Silence. Her gaze skated over his and stuck. From his darkening expression, he did not like her throwing his words back in his face.

"As we've previously established, precious, so can you."

"Maybe. But my cruelty is unintentional."

"What's said is said and what's done is done!" Jareth snapped. "Intentions mean nothing once the action is made or the words are spoken!"

She sighed and dropped her gaze, letting her hand go slack in his. After a moment, she admitted, "You're right. Intentions mean nothing. Only the actions matter."

Instead of taking his victory like she thought he would, her words seemed to make Jareth more frustrated.

He took her hand in both of his own, turning it over to trace the lines on her palm with one gloved fingertip. "Am I to forever be your villain, Sarah?" he asked her quietly.

"I don't want you to be," she said. _There, Vera. How's _that_ for honesty?_ "I just don't know how to take you."

"You may take me any way you wish, precious."

She smiled a bit at his teasing innuendo, but then sobered as she said, "I don't know how to trust you."

Even now, she was waiting for the other shoe to fall, or maybe the trap door to another oubliette. Even this flirting of his scared her, because she couldn't trust he was being sincere about it _despite_ the sincerity that shone from his eyes, as if trying to blind her into believing. Despite not knowing what he had to gain from it, besides what he couldn't possibly want.

"You can trust me to do whatever you wish," he said.

Whatever she wished, indeed. That should have sounded romantic, but she knew that not all wishes were good ones, like her mistake with Toby. Some wishes shouldn't be granted. Sometimes a wish should stay a wish, for better or worse.

"_Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken—I took him. You cowered before me—I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for _you_!"_

"And if those wishes aren't in my best interest?" she asked.

"I know what you are getting at, Sarah. But did your time in the Labyrinth not make you a better sister, a better daughter, a better friend, and an overall better person in the long run?"

"Are you seriously trying to say it was all for my own good?"

"No, it was for mine. I am merely pointing out some of the pros of our late relationship, since you seemed so focused on the cons."

"Maybe I wouldn't _be_ so focused on them if _someone_ hadn't taken it so far!" exclaimed Sarah, this time all but ripping her hand from his. "You know, I accepted years ago that it was my fault Toby was taken, not yours. _I_ made the wish, as you said. But it's _you_ that's turned me into the basketcase that I am! If I'd just had to solve the Labyrinth—But no, you had to keep coming back to screw with me in the most _horrible_ of ways. The cleaners, _really_? Your goblin army and that giant metal robot thing that nearly took off my _head_? Not to mention that trick with the damn peach! My wish or not, was any of that necessary? Is it really so shocking that after all that, I wouldn't want to… accept your offer… there… at the end. That I wouldn't trust it?"

"Perhaps not. But I had a job to do, Sarah. And quite frankly, you were getting on my nerves." He said it so matter-of-factly, with not even a smidgeon of apology to soften the statement.

"Excuse me?" spluttered Sarah.

"'A piece of cake' you called it. Do mortals not have that expression, 'do not pull on a sleeping tiger's tail'? You disrespected me inside my own Labyrinth! And worse, it was for something that was your own doing! I am a Fae and a King, I do not take such insults well."

"You are also," said Sarah succinctly, "spoiled rotten."

Jareth's eyes flashed. The magic condensed around her, no longer lightweight but heavy and tingling in a way that made Sarah think of exposed live wires and lightning storms. When he echoed her, "Excuse me?" it came out quiet and dangerous. But Sarah was too irritated to listen to the warning in his voice. He'd had his say and she would have her's too, damn it!

"Mortals don't wind up in the Labyrinth as much as you'd like me to believe, do they?" she said. It had been obvious, though she hadn't put it all together until after the fact. The False Alarms plea that it hadn't been able to give its warnings in "such a long time". The bird-headed man's surprise at seeing a young girl around. The firies hadn't even known what she was!

"And on top of that, I was doing well. It cheesed you off, so you took your temper out on me, cheating like a child would just so you could win."

Just when Jareth's expression was starting to look truly thunderous, Sarah sighed and finished in a murmur, "You were as spoiled as me." Wanting her mother to stay when it would have made her unhappy to continue on in such a loveless marriage, wanting all of her father's attention when he'd spared as much as he could—more than she probably deserved back then.

"And I can't even say you were worse than I was, because look what I did to Toby." There were still nights when she suffered nightmares about what might have happened if she'd failed. Though oddly, she hadn't had any since meeting Jareth again, which was the exact opposite of what she would've expected.

It startled her when Jareth took back her hand. His anger was gone. He looked as tired as she suddenly felt.

"We are two goblins in a bog then," he said.

She huffed a laugh and wrinkled her nose. "Hopefully we don't smell as bad, though."

Immediately he responded, "I _never_ smell."

Sarah could have told him that he _did_ smell, heavenly, but that would have done nothing but stroke the Goblin King's already overinflated ego and make him think she cared, which she didn't. He just _happened_ to smell good and she just _happened_ to notice it. It was merely an objective observation on her part, that's all.

She sighed again. Who was she fooling? Certainly not herself. Or Vera, either, apparently.

Abruptly, Jareth stepped forward and pressed her hand to his chest. Even through the thick leather, she could feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart.

"Despite how it may have seemed at the time, I never would've hurt you, Sarah," he told her solemnly. "Or let you be hurt. If you trust nothing else, I hope you trust that."

He was giving her that look again. That look that begged her to believe him. And maybe it was because of the dance they'd just shared, or because of the argument they'd just had, or because out of all the things he wanted her to believe, this was something she could actually conceive of being true, but she found herself faltering for the first time.

"Jareth, I…"

"King! _King!_"

They both turned to see an extremely obese goblin come dashing into the courtyard. Even if it hadn't been running towards them in a panic, Sarah still would have stared. It was about knee-high and layered in rolls upon rolls of fat, with thick, stubby legs and feet bigger than her own. Its head was bigger than hers too, and had two tiny horns that stuck out at weird angles above its pointy ears.

The goblin collapsed backwards onto the cobbles when it reached them, gasping for air so hard it's stomach jiggled. Sarah couldn't help but be concerned. It looked like it was about to pass out. (The green skin didn't help.) Jareth, of course, was unfazed.

"What is it, Gort?"

Over all its puffing and wheezing, it only managed to get out one word, but that was enough.

"_Rasson_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Since retrieving Sarah from Rasson's clutches, Jareth had done all he could to find the Fae short of going door-to-door to every home in the Underground. He'd searched all of Rasson's usual haunts, booby-trapped his home in case he returned, pressured and threatened all those who might've known his whereabouts, and put out a grotesquely large reward for anyone who brought him in.

When nothing came of any of it, Jareth had been forced to change tactics. He'd made sure Sarah was safely under guard, sent his best goblin spies to likely locations Rasson would turn up at once he'd crawled out of whatever hole he was hiding in, and sat back to wait. If there was one thing Jareth was good at—though he was good at lot of things, of course—it was waiting.

And now, finally, there had been a promising stir.

Yesterday, Rasson had returned to his ancestral estate. Not the one he currently resided in—that, he had purchased after being hired by Jareth—but the estate where his family lived. It was, Jareth thought, a boring and predictable move to make. Rasson had literally run home to his mommy for help, and once again, Jareth found himself disappointed. He'd expected the Fae's reemergence to be much more dramatic, if not much smarter. Where was the _flair_ in running home? Really, the man was a let down all the way around.

Jareth materialized halfway down the estate's front walk, Sarah's furious demands that he take her with him still ringing in his ears. She had not been happy to be left behind, and he would pay for it later, he was sure. But even though he knew Rasson was no longer on the premises, it was still dangerous enough that he didn't want her tagging along. Too many variables. Plus, if she was with him, he wouldn't be able to act as freely as he needed to, not when she still had so many, hmm, hang-ups, about his character.

She'd called him _spoiled_. He shook his head in exasperation. How little she understood him still. And yet, he would take it, if she conceded to sharing same flaw, if it gave them common ground in her eyes. Anything to bring her closer.

It was galling to admit he'd become so desperate, but fate had seen fit to bring them back together, and Sarah—shockingly, unbelievably, wondrously—had been showing signs of wanting… _something_ from him, he wasn't sure what. Some kind of relationship as ambiguous as it was tenuous. If it got him what _he_ wanted—namely, if it got him Sarah—he didn't care how she chose to define it.

He proceeded up the walk, keeping his steps light for any who might be watching. Best to get this over with before Sarah found herself a goblin and _wished_ herself after him out of pure stubbornness. It was disaster he could imagine her creating all to readily. A beautiful troublemaker, that was Sarah.

Size-wise, the place was as impressive as any other Fae estate in the Underground. It was shaped in a square-ish U with an entrance courtyard and a cobbled walk that horseshoed around the front steps. The grass was neat and the bushes precisely trimmed. In the middle of the courtyard was a statue of a Fae man with his hands clasped primly in front of him, an ancestor of some sort. It was only upon closer inspection of the massive structure that one could make out signs that the family wasn't as well off as they'd like others to believe. The moldings, for instance, were worn, chipped, and the styles out of date, even for a race who still considered tights the height of fashion. And curtains covered most of the windows, telling Jareth that those rooms were closed up; most likely to save whatever it would cost to maintain them. Shutting extra rooms was an easy, less noticeable way to cut one's spending, he knew that from experience. It something his father had resorted to many times when Jareth had been young.

A memory formed in his mind before he could stop it. Him as a child, trying to get into his playroom. No matter how hard he twisted the handle, the door wouldn't budge.

Tears of frustration burned his eyes and made his nose run. He had just been in there yesterday and the door had never been locked before. Did someone lock it on accident? If only he had his powers, he could just _pop_ himself to the other side and not have to deal with this stupid door at all!

He tried. He squinched his eyes shut and fisted his hands, tried to squeeze his magic out of that special place deep inside him where his parents said it slept until he was ready. Well he was ready now, so why wouldn't it _wake up?_

"Jareth, what are you doing?"

At the sound of his mother's soft voice behind him, his eyes flew open and he automatically reached for her, the tears beginning to falling in earnest. No magic and no toys? It wasn't fair!

She scooped him up, cradling him close and making quiet shushing noises as he cried. He gripped her long, gold braid of hair she always had draped over her shoulder and buried his wet face in the crook of her neck.

"Oh, there-there now," she cooed. "Don't cry. Tell me what's wrong, darling."

With one chubby fist, he pointed at the door, scrubbing at his eyes with the other. The lace from his shirt cuff scratched his cheek.

"It won't open," he told her, sniffling.

Shifting him to her hip to free up a hand, his mother tried the handle. Pressed against her like he was, he felt it when she stiffened, though her gentle expression didn't change.

"This one too," she whispered, and with a sigh, released the handle. Jareth watched in silence, his big blue eyes wide and rimmed in red from his tears.

She turned away from the door, shooting him a falsely bright smile. "Come, let's get you a snack," she told him, giving his fluffy head of white-blonde hair a fond ruffle. "And then I'm sure we can find you somewhere else enjoyable to play, okay?"

She carried him away then, and even managed to successfully distract him for the rest of the day. But all his best toys had been in that room, and it wasn't the last time his mother found him crying outside of it, trying his hardest to magic himself in. It took a long while for him to finally give up, and even longer to realize that even if he'd managed to get inside, all he would've found was an empty room.

Snarling, Jareth turned the memory into a crystal and crushed it in his fist with a satisfying popping-crack, shaking off the residual shards of glass and glitter from his glove and continuing on.

He hated when that happened.

A mortal servant met him at the door. It was an older man, dressed much like a butler in the Aboveground might be. His eyes bugged at the sight of Jareth. Poor man. Apparently no one had thought to warn him the Goblin King might be showing up. How rude of them.

"I believe your masters are holding some goblins of mine hostage," said Jareth pleasantly. "I've come to collect them. And exact punishment, of course."

"Goblin King," the servant whispered. It wasn't a directed at Jareth, more a quiet exclamation of shock.

"I'm going to have to ask you to move aside now," said Jareth. When the man hesitated—more out of fear than loyalty to his masters—Jareth let his power flare, just enough to make the mortal feel the pressure of it.

With a strangled cry, the servant stumbled back, clearing the way. Jareth swept past him.

"My thanks," he said dryly.

He found the others in what used to be the greeting room but which he now suspected served as the main and only lounge area. Two older Fae, a man and a woman, sat together on a thin-cushioned love seat that had a horrible fabric design of what looked like dead roses embroidered on it. A second man leaned against a small window seat across from them.

Mother, father, and the eldest son. Jareth recognized all of them from his last visit here, when he had come to gather more information about Rasson and thereby come to a final decision on whether or not he should hire him. Only the room had changed. The last time, they had met him in the dining room. The mother had gushed. The father had stammered his approval, and the son had dutifully answered everything he was asked but had offered nothing more in the way of enlightenment about his sibling's character. The whole conversation had been annoying and awkward, and this one was bound to be even less pleasant.

None of them looked surprised when Jareth entered the room, though the woman's mouth tightened and she drew back her shoulders in a show of prideful defense. Jareth greeted her first.

"Lady Magdalene. You're looking pleasantly pinched today."

"Rasson's not here," she said bluntly. All traces of the sweet exuberance she'd shown on their first meeting when she'd bragged about her son had vanished, replaced with a cold disdain that Jareth thought was quite well done, considering who she was speaking to.

"He's gone," she told him. "Left this morning."

"I figured as much."

"You'll not catch him now."

"We'll see about that," said Jareth. "I suppose I have him to thank for locking up my goblins? Where have you hidden them, anyway? Somewhere upstairs? I can't even hear their screeching from here." He cocked his head, pretending to listen and exaggerating a look of bliss when there was only silence. "I could use sound proofing like this at the castle."

"H-how did you know we had them?" asked the father, Lord Dronan. His fingers were clenched in his lap and he had a line of sweat along his brow.

Jareth brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve. "They didn't check in when they were supposed to, and when that happened, another sent out to check. Too bad for you, you didn't notice _him_. That goblin reported back to me that his fellows were being held here, and that they told him Rasson was responsible for their capture. And, since none of them can pick an iron lock to save their lives—here I am." Jareth sighed dramatically. "First I have to rescue a mortal girl from your son, and now my goblins. Really, the Fae has lost all sense."

"_You're_ the one who's lost sense!" hissed Lady Magdalene, rising from her place on the couch and shaking off her husband when he tried to hold her back. "When you came asking about Rasson, we thought you had a proper position for him. Something befitting his station!"

"His station is so low as to be ground level," said Jareth. "Any position I gave him would have only been a step up."

"He is still a lord's son! And yet you used him as your errand boy, giving him menial tasks and zero respect. Siccing those—those _beasts_ on him night and day!"

So the little tattle-tale had cried out his woes in his mother's skirts, had he? "If he couldn't handle even that, he never would have made it," said Jareth.

"Made it where? You would've had him cleaning up the Labyrinth Dump next!"

Now _there_ was an ingenuous idea. Jareth was a bit put out he hadn't thought of it himself.

"My poor baby," cried Lady Magdalene. "On the run, and all because of you!"

His patience teetered. Jareth growled quietly. Lord Dronan heard it and grabbed his wife's wrist, tugging her back. "Love, calm yourself now."

"My goblins, if you please," said Jareth tightly. "And then you will tell me all Rasson did while he was here, and where it is he has gone."

"You can have your stinky creatures back," Rasson's mother spat. "But if you think we're going to help you catch him, you're more crazy than a firey that's lost its head!"

"Mother," said her son, speaking up for the first time—Aldwin, Jareth thought his name was. "That's enough."

"It's hardly that!" she disagreed. "How this Fae ever made it onto a throne, even one as lowly as the goblins', I cannot fathom. You are an insult to the title!" she shrieked at Jareth. "You're a commoner who grabbed the first chance at royalty he could get and now exploits it for his own selfish whims! If only it were possible to wish _you_ away! I—"

No one saw the crystal form in Jareth's hand. It had rolled down his leg and was halfway across the floor before anyone spotted it, and unfortunately for Lady Magdalene, it wasn't her.

Aldwin straightened and Lord Dronan gasped, but the ranting Fae didn't notice or hear, not until the crystal hit the toe of her slipper and exploded in small puff of glitter and wind.

"What—"

The floor below her gave way like a trap door whose lever had been pulled, and Lady Magdalene fell with a gasping scream into its depths, the floor resealing after her without so much as a hinge remaining.

Lord Dronan rushed over with a strangled cry, dropping to his knees and running his hands frantically over the once more innocuous bit of floor.

"What did you do? Where did you send her?"

"An oubliette," replied Jareth casually. "She appeared in desperate need of a place to cool off, and oubliettes do tend to be quite chilly." On top of being dark and wet. He bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "Now. _My goblins_."

Lord Dronan opened and closed his mouth several times before jerking his head in a semblance of a nod and rising shakily to his feet.

As he left the room, Jareth turned to the remaining Fae. Aldwin met his gaze steadily and, with a resigned sigh, pushed away from his spot by the windowseat to come and stand before his king.

"What little I know will not be helpful to you," he told him honestly.

"Tell me anyway."

Aldwin shrugged. "As you're already aware, Rasson showed up last night. He found your goblins and locked them up, then spent the evening complaining about you and the mortal girl, Sarah. When morning came, he packed up a bunch of his things and left. He refused tell us where he was going, even Mother."

"And you have no idea at all where he might have gone? What of your brothers?"

"He was closest to me and didn't ask for aid, so I doubt he would go to any of them." Aldwin shot his king a look. "But then you probably have goblins spying on them too just in case, don't you?"

Jareth smiled. "Nice to see that at least one person in this family is halfway clever." He looked the Fae over consideringly. "Why did you not apply for the position when it was offered? Too low for you?"

Aldwin bowed his head. "Not at all. On the contrary, I know myself well enough to know that I would not do well in a position of power."

"Who said the position came with power?"

The Fae raised one fine eyebrow. "Doesn't it?"

Jareth's smile spread into something more genuine. Clever, indeed.

Lord Dronan returned then. Four goblins wobbled in after him, ears droopy and steps stumbling. Iron sickness. Not pleasant, but it would wear off in a few hours.

"King!" one of them squeaked and the others perked up and made for him, but Jareth flung out a hand and his magic knocked them back.

"Touch me and I will bog you," he growled. "Getting yourselves caught like this, I am ashamed to call myself your king. Rattle worms are more competent than you are!"

The Goblins cringed. Jareth drew himself up so that he was looming over them, casting them in his shadow. "Now, take yourselves back to the Labyrinth and out of my sight before I come to my senses and lock you back in that cage like the useless creatures that you are!"

They vanished without a squeak of protest. That was more like it.

Jareth turned to go as well.

"Wait!" exclaimed Lord Dronan, rushing forward. "What about my wife?"

"Who?"

The Fae grabbed onto Jareth's sleeve. "Please, release her."

Jareth raised his eyebrows. The man looked close to tears; it was nauseating. Really, the woman wasn't worth it.

Jareth heaved a sigh. "I suppose I will release her," he said, as if the very idea was a chore. When Lord Dronan looked relieved, he smirked and added, "In a month or so."

"A _month_?"

"Or so."

"But—" The Fae's grip was so tight on his sleeve now that it was crushing the leather. Jareth would be lucky if it didn't leave permanent creases.

"What I said to the goblins about touching me—it applies to you as well," Jareth told him quietly, leaning in close and making the making the man flinch back, though his grip stayed strong. "And personally, I love bogging Fae more than I love bogging goblins. Goblins are stinky creatures to begin with and don't much care to smell like rose water. But a Fae who reeks of the Bog forever? Now _that_ is truly a torture to behold."

Lord Dronan's lower lip trembled, but he released his king and stepped back. Jareth sniffed and tugged at his sleeve. Wrinkled. Of course.

Lord Dronan croaked his acquiescence. "A month then."

"And be thankful I didn't make it longer," Jareth told him, cutting a look at the still-expressionless Aldwin.

"As you will, your majesty," sniffled the lord.

Jareth walked out. No one stopped him this time. When he reached the outside walk, he halted and, with a swish and a sharp twirl, dematerialized.

Time to return to Sarah.

Unfortunately, he imagined her mood wouldn't be any better than Lady Magdalene's.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sarah stomped through the dusty, cobbled pathways, uncaring of which direction she went or where she ended up. Her trio of goblins scampered ahead of her, but never so far that she lost sight of them. The lichen stared at her, curious as ever. The mood Sarah was in, she was very tempted to give them all a poke in the eyes and tell them to mind their own business.

Jareth had left her. Once that chubby goblin had caught its breath, it had rambled off some story about Rasson and missing goblins and iron cages, and though Sarah had demanded Jareth take her with him—Rasson was _her_ problem too, after all—he had set her away from him with a wink and an unrepentant, "I'm afraid not, precious," before pulling that annoying vanishing act of his, leaving Sarah arguing with the air. Being able to appear and disappear whenever he wanted to was one of his more infuriating Fae abilities, in her opinion.

Her goblins took a left and Sarah followed. She'd yet to hit a dead end or run into any creature besides the lichen, making the place feel abandoned on top of desolate. She didn't know why she didn't just go see Hoggle, or better yet, return home and wait for Jareth there. Waiting here didn't guarantee that he would be any more forthcoming with whatever information he returned with, but still, she found herself reluctant to leave.

_"I never would've hurt you, Sarah. Or let you be hurt. If you trust nothing else, I hope you trust that."_

With Jareth gone, it was easier to think it over logically, without her stupid hormones getting in the way. Trust. It's what she kept circling around again and again. And what it all came down to, in the end. More than forgiveness or desire, more than understanding, could she trust the Goblin King? And the answer to that was… maybe. Maybe, with some things. But with others… she just didn't know.

The goblins took a right. Sarah followed and found herself stepping out into a weedy clearing. It was twice as big as the courtyard and sharply steeped, with a drop-off that plunged down into a craggy ravine that might or might not have been a continuation of the maze at some point in time. From here, she had a perfect view of the entire kingdom, with the Goblin City and its castle to the north, the forest and Dump to the east, and the desert that surrounded it all. But what really drew the gaze and hypnotized it was the Labyrinth itself. A sweeping expanse of zigzags, turns, traps, drops and dead ends formed entirely out of bushes and walls, doors and shadows, all squashed and mashed together into a rough, blocky spiral pattern that was as impressive as it was inconsistent. Turn your gaze away for even a second and something would change. It was never anything dramatic enough to pinpoint, but enough to leave you with the uneasy feeling that you had just missed something important. Sarah pitied anyone who found this spot during their run of the Labyrinth. Because even being able to see the myriad of routes, it would do you little good, not when the way was constantly changing. This hilltop was more a scenic view of false hope than anything else.

Magic coalesced around her and Sarah frowned, holding up a hand to test the air. It felt nothing like Jareth's magic, which was heavy and electric and almost sentient in its inquisitiveness. This magic was softer, duller, a fog without movement or weight.

Someone was coming, and it wasn't the Goblin King.

In a move that proved old habits really died hard, Sarah threw herself behind a low bush, ducking down so that she was out of sight. Her goblin trio remained where they were, rolling around in the crunchy greenery and chewing on the bits of weeds that tickled them. They were either oblivious or uncaring of the possible danger coming towards them; a side effect no doubt of living in the Labyrinth, where danger was everywhere.

Four Fae appeared several feet in front of her, in that same creepy, instantaneous way they all did. Sarah peeked at them through the bush's branches, careful not to make any noise. There were two boys and two girls; they all looked to be in their late teens. The boys were dressed in black breeches and boots, with sharply cut jackets and shirts with ruffles that puffed up their chests and made their gangly teen bodies look more filled out than they were. The girls wore simple gowns, but had rolled up their sleeves to the elbow and cinched up their hems to show off their slippers. They had also popped several of their front buttons so their necklines gaped, revealing more than a hint of cleavage.

One of the boys, a redhead with a sharply-pointed nose, slung an arm around the girl next to him, a giggling brunette with little lace bows pinned here and there throughout her hair. The other boy, a classic "tall, dark and handsome" type, seemed content to let his girl hang from his arm. Sarah recognized her with some shock as the one with sapphire-colored eyes that had poked her at Rasson's party—the one she had snapped at.

"Welcome, ladies, to the Goblin Kingdom," said the redhead, gesturing grandly with his free hand at the view before them.

The brunette wrinkled her nose. "Is this it? I can't believe we had to break through three magical barriers to get to this place. It's a dump."

"As expected of a kingdom full of _goblins_," snipped the pretty-eyed one. "Between them and their king, it's no wonder it's like this."

Sarah felt her irritation flutter. What right did they have to dismiss the Labyrinth so rudely? The place was a mess, yes, but it was also complex, smart, dangerous, terrifying, and if nothing else, worthy of respect. That also included its ruler. Jareth might have his faults, but he was hardly the worst king out there.

She glared at the young quartet. Fae punks.

"Why do we always have to go where you two choose, anyway?" the one continued to complain, looking between the two boys. "For once I'd like to go somewhere nice, like the Elvin Kingdom. At least they have decent wine."

"And unicorns," added the brunette, sighing wistfully. "Unicorns are so beautiful, aren't they? Unlike the creatures here. Why are they all so ugly? Really, even the pixies are more like pests."

Sarah fisted her hands. She'd like to show _her_ who was a pest.

Tall, Dark and Handsome shook his date from his arm and strode over to where the three goblins continue to play. The Fae could have been invisible for all the attention they paid him.

"You mean, ugly like this?" he asked, and with a smirk, he grabbed one of the little goblins by its ankle and hauled it up. The other two goblins bolted, shrieking as badly as the girls, who jumped back as the boy held it towards them, laughing.

"Come now, it's not that bad," he said as the creature thrashed and snapped, trying to break free. "We could take it home, make a pet out of it." He winked at the pretty-eyed girl. "What should we name it, Nyssa? Perhaps, Maurelle, after your aunt?"

"You're a troll, Faylen," she told him, keeping well away.

He laughed—but it turned into a curse when the goblin finally succeeded in getting a bite in. He dropped it, and the creature hit the ground and rolled, coming to stop in front of Sarah's hiding place. Frantically, she gestured for it to come to her, but it only lay there, looking dazed.

"Little bastard," Faylen spat, sucking on his injured hand as his friends laughed at him. "I'll teach you to bite me."

He raised his foot, prepared to stomp down, but Sarah had had enough. She dived through the bushes, reaching up to catch his boot and shoving him back. His arms pinwheeled, but it was too late, and he fell flat on his ass. The laughter died as the other Fae stared at Sarah in shock.

She got to her feet the same time as he did, though he vanished and reappeared standing while she had to scramble up the graceless human way.

"Back off," she told him. "This isn't your personal playground. If you have nothing better to do than be obnoxious and antagonize the creatures here, then you should be one your way."

"And if we don't?" he asked, unintimidated.

"If you don't, then—then I will report your behavior to the king." Okay, so it was a glorified version of tattling. Sarah didn't exactly have much to work with.

The brunette gasped and pointed a finger at her. "Oh! She's that mortal! The one his majesty took from Lord Rasson!"

"Is she?" asked the redheaded boy, squinting at Sarah as if that would make recognition easier. "I don't know…"

"I'm telling you, Eitri!"

"Luella's right," Nyssa said. "It's her." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking amused. "Careful, Faylen. This one bites too."

"Does she?" Faylen shot Sarah a cocky smile. "I bet she just needs a bit of taming, that's all."

His gaze turned intense. It was like suddenly facing a young version of Rasson, one that was a lot less subtle. Sarah watched as he gathered up all his focus, all his will, all his power, and aimed it at her in one merciless shot designed to turn her legs to jelly and her heart to mush.

She laughed at him.

He stiffened, expression turning into one of consternation. Behind him, Eitri fidgeted and Luella shuffled sideways a bit so she was partially hidden behind her two friends. Nyssa tapped one dainty foot impatiently.

The Fae boy tried again, redoubling his efforts. He moved closer until he was right in Sarah's face—as if distance was the problem. It only made her laugh harder.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You don't actually think that pathetic seduction trick works on me, do you? Maybe you were too busy abusing the mortal servers to hear the nice little speech His Majesty made about me at the party, but I am a _Champion Runner_. And you know what that means?" She shoved him back, enjoying the way his eyes widened in shock at the action. "_You have no power over me_."

Faylen looked down at the spot where she'd shoved him. The others watched in silence, darting nervous glances between him and Sarah. At least her dazed goblin had finally gotten itself together enough to move. Three familiar pairs of eyes watched her from the bushes.

Faylen slowly raised his head, and with equal slowness, smiled.

It was an ugly smile.

"Is that so?" he said.

In a blink, he was gone. The next thing Sarah knew, she was being shoved hard from behind. She turned, but there was no one there. And then she was shoved again.

The other Fae snickered.

"What's the matter?" asked Faylen, and Sarah whirled in the direction of his voice. But he had already vanished, reappearing behind her to shove her again. "Am I not powerless against you?" Shove. "Are you not a Champion Runner?" Shove. "Why are you just standing there? Why can't you face me? Put me in my place, _Champion_." Shove. Shove. _Shove_.

He shoved her to the ground. Sarah hissed as sharp pebbles abraded her palm. He stood over her, hands on hips, cockiness fully restored. He threw a wink at his friends. Luella and Eitri were both laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. Nyssa didn't laugh, but her smile was smug when she looked at Sarah. _That's what you get for snapping at me, _her expression said.

Sarah staggered to her feet. Faylen watched her with amusement. "You wanna go another round, huh? All right. I'm game."

He vanished.

Shove.

Shove.

Growing tired and royally pissed off, Sarah feinted another turn, but then stayed facing the same direction. The look on Faylen's face when he reappeared directly in front of her a second later was extremely satisfying—as was the feel of his face against her fist when she punched him.

He staggered back with a grunt, clasping his jaw.

Eitri and Luella gasped.

"You'll pay for that, mortal," Faylen snarled at her. When he dropped his hand, Sarah noted with irritation that the red mark her hit had left was already fading. Damn Fae healing.

He disappeared again, but she was onto him now in this game of fake-out. Knowing he expected her to immediately look behind her, Sarah stayed where she was. Eitri shouted out a warning to his friend, but the Fae boy had already reappeared and Sarah popped him again, this time snapping his head back.

_Ha! _

"Such violence, Sarah. You never used to be so quick to use your fists."

Sarah spun around to see Jareth watching her from a few feet away, stance casual as he took in the scene. She scowled at him. "I'm finding it's coming more naturally the longer I stay here," she quipped, not entirely joking.

Luella and Nyssa both cried out. Though it caught Sarah's attention, their warnings were not meant for her but for Faylen, who had straightened and was coming at her again, too enraged to notice His Majesty's arrival. He raised his fist, done playing now that the game was no longer in his favor. Sarah had no time to do anything but flinch and acknowledge that the next second was going to hurt.

Magic surged forward. She felt it blow passed her like a static charge in bullet form, leaving her hair standing on end and her skin prickling. It hit Faylen right in the chest. His body spasmed and his legs collapsed beneath him.

Eitri cursed. Luella screamed.

"You dare attack the Champion Runner in my presence?" Jareth asked, coming to stand before the Fae's twitching body. He looked at the others, who seemed to be trying to do… something; Sarah wasn't quite sure what. Their faces were masks of concentration, as if all of a sudden they had remembered a really hard math problem and were desperate to solve it right then.

Jareth laughed at them. "You think I would just let you dematerialize without punishment? And they say humans are foolish."

Luella began to cry. Eitri came forward and grabbed Faylen, hauling him up and back. Nyssa was the only one who remained unruffled. She stepped forward and bowed formally to Jareth.

"Of course you must punish us for our impudence, your highness," she replied solemnly. "We foolish Fae can only humbly ask that you do so with mercy."

Sarah had to give it to her, the girl was good. Her demeanor had flipped from haughty to respectful in a snap, and though she was willingly acquiescing to whatever punishment the king decided to give them, her attitude was more sincere than subservient.

Smart.

Sarah glanced over at Jareth. From his lifted eyebrows, he was also surprised by the girl's attitude, and... impressed? Was that actually a glimmer of admiration she was seeing there?

He pointed a finger at Nyssa. "You're Brusco's daughter, aren't you?"

"Your majesty remembers me. I'm flattered," she said, and bowed again. Sarah huffed and rolled her eyes. This coming from the girl who not five minutes ago was badmouthing Jareth _and_ his kingdom.

"I do, indeed," replied Jareth. "But I would have thought you smarter than to cause mischief like this, though."

Mischief? He were calling trespassing, abusing goblins, and attacking her simple mischief now?

"It was a moment of pure impulse, fueled by too much talk and curiosity," lamented Nyssa. "I regret it mightily, if only because I've now made a bad impression with you." And damn her if she didn't have the gall to give him a flirty smile, bowing yet again as she did so.

"You're gonna have neck problems if you keep doing that," Sarah muttered, which earned her an irritated look from the female Fae and an amused one from Jareth. She waved him on, but stopped with a wince when the action stung her injured palm. Jareth saw it and his gaze narrowed. He turned back to the younger Fae.

"As regretful as you may feel, I'm afraid that does not excuse you. For your punishment, I have decided it to be thus: You will leave this place."

"Gladly," muttered Faylen, while Luella and Eitri practically sagged with relief. Sarah gaped at him. That was it? He was letting them off? Not that she wanted them maimed or tortured or anything as serious as that, but after all the crap he'd put her through and all his many lectures about taking responsibility for your actions, he was really going to just let them off the hook with a simple, "Get lost"?

"Of course we will leave right away," Nyssa said. "If you would be so kind as to unblock our powers…"

"You misunderstand," said Jareth, and Sarah paused in her furious mental cursing. "You will leave this place—the mortal way."

Nyssa's smile slipped. "I-I'm sorry?"

"You four were so curious to know what this place was like. Well now you get to experience it just like the mortals do." He gestured to the desert in the far distance. "Make it outside the Labyrinth walls and over my kingdom's border and you'll find your powers restored. You'll be free to go where you please."

"_You can't_—" started Faylen, but Nyssa grabbed his arm, digging in her nails, and he clamped his mouth shut. She too looked anything but pleased, but she re-pasted her smile and said demurely, "A most reasonable and fitting punishment, your majesty. With your permission, we will take our leave of you now."

With a final bow, she led the mutinous looking Faylen away. Eitri and Luella followed after her, giving Jareth a wide berth as they scurried past him, heads bowed and eyes averted.

"Perhaps I should hire you as a guard," mused Jareth to Sarah, coming over to stand in front of her. "What do I need a goblin army for when I have _you_ here to protect my Labyrinth?"

"Ha-ha," said Sarah. She watched the young Fae disappear into the maze. Though she knew they deserved what they got, she found herself grudgingly asking, "They're going to make it out okay, right? I mean, they're not going to be in any real danger without their little location-jumping powers, are they?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Are you worried for their safety, Sarah? You needn't bother. They'll figure out the way eventually. And being Fae, they are at far less risk than a human runner would be. I would have thought, though, that you would be happy to be rid of them."

"Rid of them, yes. Want them dead, no."

"Even Brusco's daughter?" His tone was far too knowing for Sarah's comfort.

She felt a few remaining tendrils of his magic try to curl around her shoulders. She shook them off. "You mean the hypocritical tease you were enjoying talking to so much? Yes, even her."

"Jealous, precious?"

"Hardly." In her mind, she could picture Vera gnashing her teeth at that. _Honesty, Sarah! What happened to honesty?_ "I should warn you, though, she wasn't exactly singing your praises when you weren't here."

"Yes, I expect her opinion of me is less than favorable," he agreed.

That made Sarah do a double-take. "You know she doesn't like you? Then why all the… the smarmy politeness?"

"Perhaps I took your earlier words to heart. Perhaps I was trying to respond maturely, instead of, as you put it, a spoiled child."

"Oh please. You liked her. Admit it."

"Only her handling of the situation," he said. "Few faced with a king's punishment would have reacted so intelligently."

"She wasn't _that_ impressive." But still, knowing it was only the Fae's diplomatic skills he found remarkable lifted some of the weight off Sarah's chest. She tried not to compare her own skills in that area, which were terrible to say the least. Every conversation she'd ever had with the Goblin King proved that.

_Doesn't matter_, she told herself. _It's not like I'll ever need those skills anyway. Only diplomats and royalty need to be able to pull off two-faced conversations like that and I am not looking to become either._

From beside her, Jareth was watching her intently. She couldn't say what his expression was, except to say that he seemed to be trying to read her own. It made her uncomfortable, and she quickly went on the offensive.

"So tell me what you found out about Rasson. It's the least you could do seeing as how you, you know, _left_ _without_ _me_."

Jareth's lips twitched. "Oddly, he seems to have taken his things and vanished."

"Maybe that means he's given up. Decided to cut his loses and run."

"Maybe."

Sarah gave him a searching look. "You're not convinced."

"I have suspicions, nothing more."

"You think he'd really dig his hole even deeper? Doesn't he have enough crimes to answer for?"

"Strictly speaking, he hasn't committed any crimes," said Jareth.

"How can you say that?" demanded Sarah, outraged. "Did you already forget? He _kidnapped_ me!"

"I did not forget anything," Jareth replied coolly. "But stealing away mortals is not illegal here. And as soon as he found out you were a Champion Runner, he released you, making any charges he might have faced negligible at best. If he has one admirable quality, it's that through all of his scheming he has been careful to always operate within the laws of the Underground. For all that his acts are clearly treasonous, there is nothing that would hold up in the royal court."

Sarah shook her head in exasperation. "You are impressed by the strangest things. It's a little disturbing, really."

"It disturbs me too sometimes," he said. "Especially when the thing that impresses me the most is a slip of a mortal with a quick fist, a rude mouth, and no sense of proper respect."

"Yeah, well…" But compliments didn't really lend themselves well to comebacks, even backhanded compliments.

The bushes rustled as the goblins crept out of their hiding place. They sniffed the air cautiously, steps hesitant in the wake of all that had just happened. And then one leaned over and bit the ear of another and the chase was on.

"So if Rasson isn't doing anything illegal that you can pin him for, why is he even bothering to go into hiding?" Sarah asked.

Jareth's eyes—usually bright and glinting with anything from humor to malicious delight—went flat and cold. "Because broken laws or not, he hurt you, and he knows he will have to answer for that. To _me_. It's why I don't believe we've seen the last of him. He knows I'm after him, and he knows he will have to make another play if he is to have any hope of evading my wrath."

"By using me."

He tipped his head in acknowledgement, voice quiet. "By using you. Yes."

Sarah refused to let herself think about why that was. She didn't have enough remaining energy for it.

"Who is Rasson to you?" she asked. "You never did tell me."

"He was my apprentice."

"Your _what_?" Her shout startled the goblins, making two freeze and causing the third to trip and plow into them. The chase turned into a tussle. "You don't mean… You weren't going to make that asshole _king_?" Sarah was horrified.

"A consideration, nothing more. Not that Lord Rasson knew that, of course. He thought he was just an adviser of sorts."

"You never told him?"

"You don't tell a man you're training him to be king, Sarah! It will put all sorts of ideas of grandeur into his head. I had to test him first."

She was almost afraid to ask. "What kind of tests?"

Jareth ticked them off on his fingers. "Mm, problem solving and knowledge of the Labyrinth and its creatures, of course. His reaction time and ability to plan around mishaps. His patience and sense of humor—scoff at that if you want, but when ruling such trickster creatures like goblins, it's important to be able to take their pranks in stride. Also…" He trailed off.

"Also what?"

Jareth slid her a glance. "His level of compassion for others not of his race."

Sarah knew he wasn't referring to goblins this time. "You mean mortals."

"Yes." The Goblin King's expression turned forbidding. "He most certainly failed that one."

"Why are you even looking for a replacement though? I don't get it. You seem to love being king."

"Everyone gets… tired, eventually, Sarah. Even royal Fae." _Tired_ didn't seem like the word he'd wanted to use.

Sarah debated the wisdom of pressing him for more, but got distracted when he suddenly reached out and took her hand, turning it palm up to inspect her injury. The abrasion was a minor one, more a bloodrash than actual bleeding. She'd honestly forgotten about it. The sting of it had already dulled. She probably wouldn't have remembered it until she'd gone to grab something.

Sarah fought to keep her breathing even. It was hard enough meeting his eyes and just standing close to him. Letting him touch her took a whole other level of strength and self-control, one that wasn't so good right now. And seeing him so focused—so genuinely concerned—it made her heart twist in uncomfortable ways. But she couldn't quite work up the words to tell him to let go, or the energy to pull herself free.

His thumb brushed against her wrist, back and forth, an unconscious gesture that was probably meant to be soothing but it only succeeded in winding her up more. The leather of his glove was so smooth it didn't create even the slightest friction. To her shame, she found herself imagining how that gloved hand would feel on _other_ parts of her body. Over her stomach… down her back… up her leg… She berated her mind to stop it, but it was hardly in her control. The images kept popping up, each one more intimate than the last, and she couldn't help _wishing_—

"Are you all right?" murmured Jareth, and she looked up to find him watching her again. His gaze took in her widened eyes, her cheeks she knew were badly flushed, and came to a rest on her lips, parted as she breathed shakily in and out.

Sarah snapped her mouth shut and dropped her chin, her heart pounding. She was losing it, and over some stupid gloves! And even if it was only mentally, she had almost used the forbidden words. If he hadn't stopped her…

"I—I'm fine," she stuttered, and gestured with her free hand at her injury. "A-are you going to heal this or just stare at it all day?"

He cocked an eyebrow and she waited for his snarky response, but surprisingly he stayed silent, redirecting his attention back on the task at hand without comment. Sarah was so busy avoiding looking at him that she missed the tiny smile that ghosted across the Goblin King's lips, hidden before it could fully form.

His magic flowed over her palm, and a moment later Sarah held up her hand, now without a scratch in sight.

"I have to admit, that's pretty cool," she said. She forced her tone to stay even and light. She was calm. She was collected. She was moving away only because she wanted to take in the view again, not for any other reason. Not at all. "How come you can do something this when Rasson doesn't seem to even understand how healing works?"

"Not many Fae learn the healing arts because our bodies repair themselves so quickly," explained Jareth. "And what _can_ hurt us to that extent is usually fatal, so there's no point."

"But _you_ learned."

He saw the question hidden within the statement and answered, "I deal with mortals enough that it's wise to know a healing spell or two."

Only if you cared enough to heal them, which most Fae didn't seem to. That Jareth appeared to be the exception to that rule was… surprising. Sarah bit her lip. Here was more evidence that she had misjudged him. Not that he didn't have a sadistic sense of humor when it came to messing with mortals' heads, but compared to his brethren, he was downright sympathetic.

"I still can't."

Jareth stiffened. So did Sarah. She hadn't meant to voice that thought aloud.

_What's said is said._ And Jareth knew what she was saying.

"What do you think it would take, I wonder?" His tone was mild, almost disinterested, as if they were wasting time with small talk and nothing more, though they both knew that was far from the case.

"I don't know," admitted Sarah. And that was the real crux of the problem, wasn't it? She didn't have an answer. There might not even _be_ one.

They watched the goblins chase each other around, chittering and nipping. Occasionally one goblin would pounce on another, and there would be squirming and scratching and yelping, then they'd get away and the game would go on. In that moment, Sarah envied them. Envied that they could play together so roughly, hurt and scare each other so badly without qualm, and still, when the game was over, go home and curl up together just as content as can be, with no hard feelings or guilt between them. No loss of trust. Oh, how she envied.

And how she almost, almost wished.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Sarah got the call the following Saturday. She was in the middle of putting groceries away when she heard her phone ring, and she let it go to voicemail without bothering to check who was calling. Vera was at work and Sarah had just talked to her father yesterday, which, sadly, pretty much covered all of her usual callers. Odds were it was a wrong number, or one of her goblin guardians trying to trick her again. (They were, suspiciously, in the other room at present, which was usually a sign that they were up to something.) Watching Vera chat and text with her new boyfriend all week had drawn the creatures' attention to the small ringing devices, and since then they had gleefully sought to make their own with things around the house, like the television remote or her hairbrush, holding the objects up to their pointy little ears and chattering loudly into them. That in itself wasn't a big deal—it was kinda cute, actually, like watching a child mimic its parent—but whenever they did it any phone nearby would ring with an actual call, the number unknown, and when you answered it you'd get an earful of excited goblin chittering. After the eighth time or so, it stopped being so cute.

She pushed a bunch of bananas farther back on the countertop and shoved a twelve pack of ramen up on the shelf, along with a jar of red sauce and a box of spaghetti. She'd almost gotten ziti instead, but the goblins got a kick out of slurping up the longer noodles and she'd been feeling generous after succeeding in getting through an entire week peacefully, phone pranks notwithstanding.

No, not generous, she corrected herself. Generous was the wrong word. It was more like… like…

She was still struggling to think of something when her phone dinged, telling her she had voicemail. With a sigh, she went to see what senseless rambling the goblins had left for her this time. She turned the volume down and held the phone a safe distance away from her ear, in case they had decided to blow raspberries at her again. Which was why she almost missed it when the familiar, long-suffering voice of her agent, Hilary Babineau, came on the line.

Sarah gasped. She turned the volume back up and pressed the cell firmly to her ear.

"About that play you auditioned for on Wednesday…" said Hilary. "The casting for lead female is out…"

Sarah tensed. So soon? But usually it took directors _weeks_ to make final decisions about cast! What had made them decide so quickly? she wondered. But then she heard Hilary say, a bit dryly, "Congratulations…" and Sarah stopped caring about the why of it. She'd gotten the part!

"Call me back so we can start talking about contract negotiations," her agent said. Before she hung up, she adding even more seriously, "And make sure not to blow it this time."

Sarah laughed and tossed her phone back into her purse, doing a happy dance complete with giddy hopping and finger pointing. Hilary didn't have to worry. No way would Sarah blow it, not this time. She had specifically gone after this part because it had absolutely _no_ similarities to a certain kingdom, its creatures or its king. This time… this time…!

The goblins heard her cries of celebration and came scurrying into the kitchen, eager to see what all the fuss was about. When they saw Sarah enjoying her own little freak out, they didn't hesitate to join in too. They chattered and screeched and jumped around along with her, twice as excited as she was for no reason at all. Two grabbed the empty grocery bags on the counter and started whipping them back and forth, while the third hopped into the sink to bang on the dishes left there from breakfast. Sarah laughed and went with it, too elated to scold them. None of them noticed the shadow that appeared in the doorway behind them.

"Well don't you look happy. Good news, I take it?"

Sarah whirled, and her joy morphed into horror to find none other than Rasson standing there.

The goblins gave cries of alarm and scattered, only to think better of it a second later and vanishing, one by one, until only human and Fae remained. Sarah hoped they had gone to get Jareth as planned and not just fled to hide somewhere better, but she was by no means optimistic.

"Oh no, did I ruin your fun?" Rasson asked with mock regret. "My apologies. I know how _annoying_ that can be, when someone comes in and just ruins _everything_ for you. Truly, I do."

He was blocking the only exit. Sarah edged her way back, towards the sink. She couldn't escape, but if she could find something to ward him off, some kind of weapon, even a plate or a pan, just until Jareth could get here…

"What? Nothing to say?" asked the Fae. "Are you perhaps giving me the silent treatment again? You know how much I hate that, Sarah."

"I have nothing to say to you," she told him.

"Oh, but I have so much to say to _you_."

He started towards her, each step slow and precise. Stalking her. He was dressed differently, Sarah noticed. Gone were the ruffled shirts and dark tights. In their place were jeans and a button-down shirt parted casually at the collar. His hair had even been cut into a more modern, human style. What was that about?

But more importantly, where the heck was Jareth?

_I knew relying on goblins was a bad idea_, she thought, stiffening as her lower back came into contact with the edge of the sink. She reached behind her to grip the edge, trying to make it look like she needed the support.

"Not curious, Sarah, what I have to say?" asked Rasson.

"I could make some guesses," she hedged, slowly reaching down into the sink. "Is it something smarmy and vaguely threatening maybe? Or a promise of vengeance you'll never be able to fulfill? Let me know if I'm getting warm."

Rasson wrinkled his nose. "Champion Runner or not, your disrespect is beyond the pale."

"It's impressive, isn't it?" She groped blindly for a piece of silverware, a dish, _anything_. "I've actually been told it's one of my charms."

"If that is your charm, than I would hate to know your faults."

She swiped her hand over the bottom of the sink, finding nothing but some lingering suds. This wasn't working. She locked eyes with Rasson. His smile twisted up, and she knew he was aware of what she was doing. Abandoning subtlety, she spun around, intending to grab the first thing she saw and use that, but the sink was empty. Not so much as a spoon remained.

Sarah stood there, dumbfounded into immobility. No way. At least ten dishes had been in there!

Rasson tsked. "Nice try, Sarah, but no cigar. Or should I say, no dinner plate?"

And still no Goblin King. She was so screwed.

She debated going for the cutlery drawer, but if the Fae could vanish things at will, she doubted he'd let her get her hands on anything useful.

With nothing left for it, she bolted for the door. Unfortunately, it was as hopeless as she feared. He intercepted her easily, catching her by the upper arms and squeezing tight. No matter how much she squirmed, she couldn't get free. Panic threatened. Being so close to Rasson brought back memories of all the other times he'd trapped her, invaded her space, tried to invade her mind. She swore she could feel a burgeoning pain in her back. Sharp pricks from forgotten pieces of glass buried deep in her flesh. Digging… digging… She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Something warm and thick trickled down the curve of her lower back, dampening the waistband of her shorts and making her shirt stick to her skin. Was she actually bleeding?

"I understand it all now, Sarah," Rasson whispered. "These past couple weeks I've been doing some research, you see. On the Goblin King. And on you. It makes sense now why he's so taken with you; you're as arrogant and cruel as he is."

"I'm not—" she denied, but he continued on, his words merciless. "Wishing away your baby brother, Sarah? How could you?"

The pain in her back was nothing compared to the shame she felt at being reminded of the one transgression she knew she would never fully live down, and she struggled to push back her guilt and the panic that he suddenly knew so much. She couldn't let him get to her. She needed to think, she needed to get away…

But then he spoke again, and his words made her blood run cold and her mind go blank with terror.

"Maybe I'll take him, innocent little Toby. You may be a Champion Runner, but there's no law saying I can't take the Champion's sibling. I could adopt him as my own; raise him up right. What do you think, Sarah? Then again, maybe you don't care. You wished him away once, after all. Maybe it won't bother you to lose him. Good riddance. Is that how it is, Sarah?"

Her throat constricted. Her words came out hoarse. "Don't you dare touch him."

Rasson ignored her, continuing on blithely, "He wouldn't even be hard to catch. All I would have to do is wait for him at the park. He does so love to go there, doesn't he, Sarah? Even after all these years. The park where his dear sister always took him to play, not knowing she betrayed him, that she tried to get rid of him."

Sarah felt sick. He knew where Toby was. He had been watching him, and she hadn't even known. He could've done anything to him. Still could.

_Not Toby_, she thought. She would never let her brother be under the mercy of a sadistic Fae ever again, no matter what it took. Never again.

Rasson laughed, enjoying her distress, and Sarah snapped. She threw her hands up with a scream, and it surprised the Fae enough that she was able to break free. The second she did, the pain in her back vanished and so did the sensation of bleeding. Her way was still blocked, however, and she ran back to the sink to grab the only thing Rasson hadn't vanished away: the soap dispenser.

Rasson grabbed for her just as she spun back, and she brought the dispenser smashing down with an angry yell. Skin split and ceramic shattered. Rasson roared and stumbled back, soap and blood running down his forehead and into his eyes. He doubled over, trying frantically to wipe it away, and Sarah bolted on wobbly legs around him and into the living room. She made it to the hall before he reappeared in front of her, clean and unmarked once more.

"You'll pay for that stunt, Sarah."

She stumbled to a halt. She had to get away, but it was clear that running alone wasn't enough. She needed magic to escape, and she didn't have any of that.

_I wish…_ she started, habit stopping her like usual from finishing. But then she rethought it, because a wish was exactly what she needed right now, more than anything.

_To hell with it,_ she thought.

Straightening, she matched Rasson's arrogant stance. Her suddenly determined expression gave him pause. It was exactly what she needed. Taking a deep breath, she proceeded to shout out her wish, demanding it with every fiber of her being. _"I wish I was with Jareth, right now!"_

The floor tipped and the last thing she saw was Rasson's furious face before she was swallowed up into that weightless place between worlds. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out as she was cast back. And back, and back. She had never moved so fast, or traveled for so long, and she started to fear that this time she really would be lost when she slammed into some kind of wall.

It lit up where she struck it, a webbed dome of shimmering neon blue that was blinding in contrast to the complete blackness that surrounded it. It crackled and sparked, sending little prickling shocks through Sarah and sending her catapulting back out into nothingness. The moment she was no longer touching it, the light vanished, leaving her blind once more.

She hit solid floor a moment later, momentum forcing her into a painful roll that carried her several feet before she finally came to a rest on her back. Had she made it?

She opened her eyes to the spectacular view of a huge, vaulted ceiling, every inch of it decorated with pieces of gold and emerald in some kind of flowing mosaic abstract. Each piece was unnaturally sparkling, drawing the gaze and holding it, to the extent that Sarah felt like she was falling into some sort of trap just by looking at it.

Or maybe she was just becoming overly paranoid. Still, she averted her eyes, just in case.

She pushed herself up, head buzzing and her skin tingling from whatever magical energy she'd been jolted with when she'd hit that strange wall. Thinking about it, she wondered if it hadn't been some kind of barrier, though why it had been there she couldn't say. She was in a long hallway she didn't recognize; she certainly wasn't in the Labyrinth. The way was too bright and the walls were clean and unfettered with so much as a painting or a lamp.

_And not a Goblin King in sight, _noted Sarah. She couldn't even feel his magic from here. Had her wish not worked? Or, what if_…_ But she cut the thought off. She refused to believe that Rasson had done something to Jareth. If he had somehow managed the impossible of getting the better of the Goblin King, he definitely would have said something about it. Rasson seemed the type to brag, and taunting her with Jareth's defeat would have been irresistible to him.

Which meant Jareth was fine—but fine _where_?

Near the end of the hall was a set of giant stone doors, in front of which two men appeared to be in some sort of scuffle. They were both dressed in official-looking outfits complete with tall, matching hats that reminded Sarah of the uniforms worn by the Queen's royal guard in Britain, only in white and heavily bedazzled with precious stones and golden studs. They hadn't noticed her yet.

Sarah got to her feet and hurried over to them. Maybe they could tell her where Jareth was. That is, if she could get their attention long enough to ask them. As she got closer, she realized they weren't struggling with each other, but with three very pissed off looking goblins—_her_ goblins—who were trying their damndest to get by. Did that mean Jareth was inside?

"Is the Goblin King here?" she asked. Both guards glanced over and did double takes.

"How'd you get in here?" demanded the one on the right. "No unauthorized mortals allowed!"

"I need to see the Goblin King immediately," she insisted. "Please let me in."

The left guard nudged his partner in the ribs, still while fighting to keep hold of the thrashing creatures between them. By the way they were only using their hands, Sarah thought they must be mortal men and not Fae. "Hey, Benny. She's that runner they were arguing 'bout earlier," he said in a pointless whisper. Even with his voice pitched low, Sarah was close enough to hear him clearly.

"Is she?" Benny looked her over with curiosity, asking again, directly, "Are you?"

"How should I know?" she said. She couldn't think of a reason for anyone to be arguing about her, although she had to concede that the way her life was going right now, that odds were good. "But I _am_ a Champion Runner," she told them, in case it mattered. Anything that might help her get by.

"Are you?" asked Benny again, and grunted when a tiny goblin foot kicked him in the gut.

"I am," she confirmed. "And Jar—I mean, His Majesty is expecting me, so…" She tried to edge around them, but the left guard threw out a hand to stop her. The action allowed one of the goblins to worm its way free and it fell to the floor with a fart.

"Hold up. No one's allowed inside the chamber until the hearing is over," he told her.

"But it's an emergency!"

"Tough."

Tough? _Tough? _Sarah tamped down her anger, reminding herself that they were just doing their jobs. Still, her brother's safety was at stake. Rasson could get to Toby in a blink. For all she knew, he had gone back and was stealing him away right now. She couldn't afford to just stand here and wait.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to insist that you let me by," she told them.

"Here that, William?" said Benny. "She's _insisting_."

William sniggered.

Well, she hadn't expected any different, but at least she'd tried.

With a regretful sigh, Sarah stepped back. She looked at the goblins they were still struggling to restrain, and said in a loud, clear voice, "I wish these goblins would take you far away from me!"

Sarah gave the men credit, they were quick on the uptake. The moment she said the words, their eyes went wide in understanding and they tried to fling the goblins away, but to no avail. The creatures grabbed hold with their captor's clothes with their tiny claws, no longer trying to break free but pulling close instead. The goblin that had fallen hopped onto William's boot with a happy squeal. A second later they all disappeared in a fizzle of magic and the briefest sparkle of glitter, and Sarah was left alone in the hall.

Telling herself that they'd be okay, she hurried up to the oversized doors, grabbed both handles and yanked. The doors glided open on silent hinges, giving no resistance, and Sarah stepped forward cautiously. The moment she was inside, they swung back closed, just as silently.

The room she was in was wide and circular. It was dimmer than in the hallway, but just as beautiful, with clean white walls and a high ceiling decorated with another mosaic, this one in gold and ruby. The floor sloped downwards towards a raised dais in the center of the room, with stone benches circling it in a countless number of rows all the way to the very back walls.

A lone figure stood in the middle of the dais. And though Sarah, strangely, still could not feel his magic even at this close distance, she knew without a doubt it was Jareth.

He looked every inch the Goblin King, with an outfit that was terrifyingly similar to the one he had worn during their final encounter all those years ago, in that broken space between time and worlds. He was dressed all in white, from his tall leather boots to the billowy shirt to the thick feather cloak that was draped about his shoulders. Even his belt, gloves, and vest, buttoned tight, were completely white, without a single piece of jewelry or stud besides his usual necklace to embellish the ensemble. Unlike _that_ encounter, however, this time Sarah was nothing but relieved to see him.

"Jareth!" she called out to him, but, oddly, he didn't look over. Couldn't he hear her? He wasn't ignoring her, was he? He stood with his head tipped back, expression closed up tight. He looked like he was waiting for an answer from the very heavens.

Which is why Sarah jumped about a foot when the heavens actually answered.

They did not sound pleased.

"What you ask for is no small thing, Goblin King," a stern voice said from above. It was sharp and feminine and slightly muffled-sounding, as if Sarah were hearing it through a wall. "And we are not convinced that you have shown proper remorse for your folly yet, either."

Well if they were waiting for him to show remorse over something, they would be waiting a long time, thought Sarah, making her way towards the dais as quickly as she could. Though the rows of benches were evenly spaced, the benches themselves were not, which meant that there was no proper aisle she could go down. It forced her to weave tediously around each and every bench she came to. Wasting energy; wasting time.

"Jareth!" she called again, but again he gave no sign that he could hear her. Instead, he addressed the voice, declaring matter of factly, "I have not done anything you can fault me for since that time. Surely that means something."

"There was that stunt you pulled at Rasson's party," a second disembodied voice pointed out haughtily, this one distinctly male-sounding.

"He was breaking the law," argued Jareth. "Informing him of that fact and then removing the Champion Runner from the proceedings can hardly be called excessive."

So they _were_ arguing about her. It figured. Sarah reached the last line of benches before the dais. She stood directly in front of Jareth now, but when she waved her arms he didn't so much as glance over. Curiouser and curiouser. She sized up the dais. It came to about her waist. There were no stairs that she could see, but with a running start, she felt confident she could make it up.

She backed up as far as space allowed, then sprinted forward. She leapt.

She felt the prickle on her skin a second before blue light flashed and she was thrown back, nearly cracking her head on a bench as she fell. That barrier!

"Perhaps not," the female voice conceded. "But that it was the same runner you had problems with the last time—_that_ we find worrying."

"Coincidence," Jareth replied dismissively. "Nothing more."

Sarah scrambled to her feet and stepped up until she was inches away from the dais. The barrier was back to being invisible. Carefully, she reached out a hand. Maybe if she moved slowly? But the second she made contact, blue light sizzled and she was knocked back a step, her fingers and arm tingling. Damn it! Frustrated, she banged on it with a fist before she could think better of it and the magical force sent her sprawling once more.

"Coincidence, you say?" the female voice asked, sounding amused. Sarah staggered to her feet. Her hair floated about her face in a staticky mess and she shoved a hand through it, making it crackle. Her heart was beating fast and a bit off-rhythm and that was worrying. Clearly, this thing wasn't going to just give way, and she wasn't sure how many more magical shocks she could take. Maybe if she could find something to hit it with? Where was a good magic-smashing bat when you needed one?

"And is it also coincidence," the female voice said, "that she is standing before us now, trying to break into our private court session?"

"Excuse me?" said Jareth.

Abruptly, the barrier shimmered in a downward ripple. Sarah jumped back with a squeak of surprise. Jareth's magic erupted out like water from a broken dam, submerging her for one breath-stealing second before ebbing back and dissipating into its usual inquisitive tendrils. Sarah waved a hand through the invisible wisps of power. This time Jareth noticed the movement, and he finally, _finally_, looked over at her.

"Sarah?"

"Jareth!"

She launched herself at the dais, forgetting in her haste about needing a running start. She never would have made it, but his magic wrapped around her waist and lifted her just enough for her to scramble up over the edge. The moment she was clear she ran to Jareth.

"Sarah? What are you—" She grabbed his arm, and that was enough to surprise the Goblin King into silence.

"It's Toby," she said. "I mean, it's Rasson. He knows about Toby, me, you, all of it. You have to come with me right now. I have to check on Toby and I need back-up in case Rasson comes—"

"You saw Lord Rasson?"

She nodded. "The jerk appeared right in my apartment."

"Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?" His magic swirled around her, seeking for any sign of injury or hurt. It blew through her hair, messing it up further, and flowed up her sleeves. It found a cut near her ankle, a shallow slice she'd made while shaving that morning, and lingered there. Sarah kicked it away impatiently.

"I'm fine. That's not—"

"Why wasn't I notified?" He looked around, eyes flashing with fury, and she had no doubt that if her goblins had been there he would have bogged them on the spot, excuses be damned.

"They were held up. But it doesn't matter right now. I got away and we need to get to Toby fast in case Rasson decides to do something. He—"

"You are still in dispute with Lord Rasson?" said the female voice. She sounded a lot clearer now.

"So it would seem," replied Jareth dryly, craning his head to look upwards again. Sarah looked up too.

_Whoa_.

It turned out that the heavenly voices weren't disembodied at all, but coming from a small group of Fae that stood around an upper balcony directly above them. The spot was cleverly hidden by both light and angle so that it was only visible by those standing on the dais. Having them watching from so high above made Sarah feel distinctly looked down upon, both literally and figuratively, which was probably their intention. These Fae were also dressed in white finery, and all of it simplistic but well designed, like Jareth's. Also like Jareth, they all had feathers either sewn into their clothes or sticking out of their hair. Combined with their high vantage point and hard expressions, they reminded Sarah of birds of prey, sizing up a possible meal.

The female Fae leaned farther over the gold railing of the balcony. She was fairly old looking, for a Fae. Sarah could actually see age lines around her eyes and mouth. She pinned Sarah with a look that was just as stern as her voice. "What is this that Lord Rasson has done? Explain yourself, Champion."

"He broke into my home and threatened me. He threatened to take away my brother!"

"You interrupted a royal court session just for that?" another Fae sneered, and Sarah was disgusted to recognize him as one of the men at the party who had asked Rasson about her bedroom stamina. He even still wore that ugly ruffle around his neck. "He could do worse than Lord Rasson for a Keeper. How did you get past the guards?" he demanded.

"I wished them away!" Sarah snapped. Several of the Fae gasped. Even Jareth looked shocked at her admission. But Sarah didn't care; she was too angry. How dare they dismiss her brother's welfare like that! What was wrong with these people, that they could be so heartless about abducting children?

_Forget them. You don't need them,_ she told herself. The only person she needed right now was the man standing next to her. She turned her focus entirely on the Goblin King, who met her gaze but gave away nothing in his expression.

"_Please_, Jareth." She was still holding onto his arm. The silk of his sleeve was soft under her hand, and she gave a squeeze, silently beseeching him. His gaze shuttered, becoming more closed off than ever. Not the reaction she'd hoped for.

"Be warned, Goblin King," the female Fae put in above. "If you leave this courtroom now we will have no choice but to reject your request. You will also be forfeiting your right to an appeal. There will be no second chance for this."

"Is that so?" said Jareth. His tone was utterly neutral, but Sarah's heart sunk. He wasn't going to come with her. No way. Not if it was going to ruin whatever he was trying to accomplish here. Care about her in his own twisted way he might, but she didn't delude herself about his altruism. His own needs came first. Always.

_Withdraw,_ she told herself. _Withdraw before this becomes any more embarrassing than it already is._

"Sarah—" he started, but she shook her head and threw up her hand to make him stop.

"No, it's okay. I understand. Y-you have things to do here and…" And she didn't know what else to say. She felt like an idiot. For relying on Jareth when she should have known better and for wasting so much time when her brother was still out there, in danger, because of her.

She let go of Jareth's arm. The action was stiff and reluctant and she hated herself for being so obvious about her disappointment. To make up for it, she didn't look back as she crossed the dais, keeping her expression as stoic as possible. She didn't let herself so much as pause before she jumped off the edge—

—And straight into Jareth's arms.

"What are you—" She tried to squirm free, more out of surprise in suddenly being held than in a desire to get away, but his grip was solid. She wasn't going anywhere.

He sighed gustily. "Once again you automatically assume the worst of me. Really, Sarah, if you are going to continue to doubt my character the least you could do is give me the chance to prove you wrong. You know how much I enjoy seeing that stunned look of yours when you realize the extent of your stupidity. Yes, that look right there."

Sarah snapped her mouth shut and tried to scowl at him, but hope and happiness were bubbling up and she couldn't hold it for long. "Are you saying… you'll come with me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Must everything be spelled out for you before you understand? Where is your brother now?"

"I-I'm not sure," she stammered. She was having trouble thinking around her shock. Jareth had chosen her. _Her_. Even if whatever he had come here for today wasn't as big a deal as what these Fae were making it out to be, he was still giving up something that had to be more in his interest than worrying about her brother. It was hardly fathomable. And it meant more to Sarah than she could ever say.

"It's Saturday," she reasoned, "so Toby could be a lot of places. But… I want to check the park first," she told him.

"As you will."

"Goblin King!" They looked back. Off the dais, they could no longer see the other Fae, but their voices rang clear. The unmistakably tenor of the beruffled Fae echoed like an ugly ghost around them. "You insult us with this insolent display! And your actions more than prove our point! Consider your request officially denied!"

"I expected nothing else," said Jareth. He looked down at Sarah. "Ready?"

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight. With a solemn nod she said to him, "I'm ready."

Together, they vanished.


End file.
